


The Way I See You

by xButters



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto is stupid, Editor Akaashi Keiji, Fluff, Ghosts, Kind of canon but not really, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Bokuto Koutarou, Paranormal, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xButters/pseuds/xButters
Summary: It all began because Bokuto's apartment was haunted.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 57
Kudos: 309





	1. One.

Blinking at the faint glow of his clock on the bedside table, Bokuto couldn’t describe the chills that climbed his spine, the way he suddenly felt like he wasn’t alone.

The overwhelmingly foreboding certainty that he was being watched.

It was two thirty-two in the morning when Bokuto was awoken, confused why he felt chilled to the bone like he was laying in a bed of ice. He ran so hot that he kept the fan blowing at full force when he was asleep; otherwise he would wake as a sweaty, irritated mess, no matter the weather outside. He was distantly aware of the fan still humming at the end of his bed.

Slowly, he turned over from his side onto his back, squinting into the darkness of his room as if he could see. _Shit_ , he was going to be murdered. Somebody had snuck into his second floor apartment, and he was going to be stabbed to death in nothing but his boxers before he finished out his volleyball career.

He lay still for a long minute before he whispered, “Hello?” After the question left his mouth, he immediately felt like a horror movie protagonist, and since he echoed the most targeting line in the script, he knew _for sure_ he was going to get murdered.

After waiting with bated breath, nothing replied to him.

He relaxed a bit, even though he still felt the chill in the air. Slowly, he dared to reach for the lamp on his bedside table. Just before his fingers could make it to the switch, his heart came to a stop when the humming from his fan abruptly cut to silence.

Bokuto snapped on the lamp so fast that it almost went sliding off its surface. He twisted to frantically look around his bedroom, expecting to find a man in a mask, or maybe Pennywise from IT (Kuroo had forced him to watch the new movie not long ago even though Bokuto hated horror).

He let out a sigh of relief to find his room empty. His fan was still off, though. Did he somehow imagine that it had switched from on to off? It seemed more rational to believe that he just never turned it on in the first place before bed and he had woken up because his body was overheating.

Except he wasn’t sweating and still felt goosebumps raised on his arms. He got up to cautiously check his closet just in case. Then he slowly knelt to peek under his bed. Feeling lighter after finding nothing hiding, he switched his fan back on and climbed under his comforter.

He did not turn off the lamp.

Bokuto woke up in the morning and almost forgot about the strange incident. He went about his routine, much later than usual because it was Sunday and he didn’t have practice.

He pissed, brushed his teeth, took a shower, dressed, spiked his hair, and went into the kitchen to make his protein drink and breakfast. He reached for the cabinet door where his dishes were, then frowned. It was already open.

Bokuto scratched the back of his head. Maybe he left it open last night? He found it odd he hadn’t noticed it coming into the kitchen this morning. He had a bad experience of his cabinets being left carelessly open. One time when Kuroo and Kenma had been over, Kenma had accidentally left a cabinet door open and Bokuto had walked right into it. It had been both painful and humiliating—even now he could recall the horrid sight of crimson blood dripping from his nose and the echoes of Kuroo’s cackles.

He was eating his dinner much later, watching a dumb comedy after an uneventful day of movie marathoning when he heard a door slam shut.

Sure, he lived in an apartment complex. He heard things all the time. But that was most definitely coming from _his own apartment_. Bokuto swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.

He muted the TV before standing. His place was small, really only three separate spaces. It could only have been his bedroom door or the bathroom. He hesitated before he snatched a knife from the kitchen, thinking it would be better to be safe than sorry.

Heart thumping in his chest, he froze at the end of the hall, knife held forward. He could see from there that the bathroom door was open as he left it, but his bedroom door, at the very end, was closed shut. Not how he left it. After a very long moment of contemplation, he grabbed his phone, stepped into his slippers, and stood outside his own place.

“Akaashi? Are you busy?” he asked as soon as his best friend picked up.

Akaashi took a second to reply. When he did, his voice sounded a little breathy. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

“Could you…could you come over?” he asked in a small voice.

“Are you okay? Why do you sound like that?”

“Just come over,” Bokuto begged. “Weird things have been happening.”

There was a muffled sound, like maybe Akaashi was talking to someone but was covering up the phone. Then a simple, “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

Bokuto stood shivering in the autumn night air, wishing he had thought to grab a jacket before he fled, studying the knife he still held, glinting under the artificial lights.

Luckily, Akaashi’s place was within walking distance. Looking out over the edge of the railing, Bokuto waved frantically to his friend as he saw him walking up. Akaashi climbed up the stairs, his cheeks flushed from the chill, wrapped in a bomber jacket and a navy scarf that highlighted the gunmetal blue of his eyes.

“What is it?” Akaashi asked wearily. “Why are you standing out here in the cold with no jacket or shoes and…a knife?”

“Okay, so look,” Bokuto started, and gave him a rundown of the fan, cabinet, and door situation. “And I didn’t want to go check by myself, because like, I don’t know if there’s someone living in my walls or something.” That one movie had really freaked him out, the man climbing out from the walls and hiding again whenever he pleased…

“ _Living_ …” Akaashi said in disbelief under his breath before he sighed. “Okay, I’ll check for you and then you can make me some soup since I came all the way here for nothing.”

Bokuto followed his friend inside his apartment, knife in his hand. “You stand behind me, I just wanted someone to be able to run for help when the man in my walls attacks me,” Bokuto said, but then paused when he stood at the end of the hall.

His closed bedroom door seemed to loom.

“You can admit that you’re scared,” Akaashi stated before he calmly walked towards Bokuto’s bedroom.

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi!” Bokuto hissed, following closely after him, weapon held tight in his grip.

His friend pushed open the bedroom door, flicking on the lights to show an empty room. “See? Nothing. I’m telling Kuroo that he’s forbidden from showing you scary movies.”

“But…” Bokuto kicked a few articles of dirty laundry out of his way before he checked his closet. He refused to look under his bed in front of Akaashi, but when his friend turned his back to leave the room with an exasperated sigh, Bokuto quickly ducked his head under to make sure.

Akaashi was already relaxing on the couch, jacket and scarf folded neatly across the back of it when Bokuto finally followed after him, pouting. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s difficult for me to believe in things I can’t see,” Akaashi said. “The power probably went out for a second and that’s why the fan went off. Or it’s getting worn and is dying on you. And you’re so absent-minded—how can you be sure you didn’t leave the cabinet open? You live in a complex with thin walls, you must have heard somebody slamming their door nearby.” He stretched his arms, letting out a satisfied little groan that made something in Bokuto’s stomach flip. “These things are getting to you since the very first incident weirded you out. Our brains trick us.”

Dejected, Bokuto mumbled something incoherent before restarting the movie for Akaashi and began making Akaashi’s favorite cold weather soup. Faced with logic, Bokuto found it hard to argue, even when deep in his bones something felt off.

He moved into this apartment not even a month ago after running into problems with his landlord at his last place. But this was the first time he had noticed anything strange, so maybe it was all in his head. It was true that he had quite an imagination, and Kuroo insisted that he watch a bunch of horror movies with him lately in honor of Halloween coming up.

Akaashi nearly always ended up being right about things.

Bokuto finished Akaashi’s soup, handing him a bowl where he lounged comfortably with his legs crossed. He wasn’t finding the film very humorous, hadn’t even cracked a smile once, but his face lit up when he received his gift for coming over in Bokuto’s time of need.

“What’s that?” Akaashi asked, pointing to a small owl carved out of wood that sat on the coffee table.

“Kuroo gave it to me as a house-warming gift! A late one. Isn’t it cool?”

Akaashi, who was of course very practical and had given Bokuto oven mitts, nodded without much conviction.

“Who were you with, anyway?” Bokuto asked, flopping down and eyed his own forgotten plate of grilled meat. “I didn’t mean to drag you away from anything.”

Akaashi seemed suddenly interested in the movie, not looking at Bokuto very purposely. “Just a friend. This soup is very good.”

“Just a friend…” Bokuto eyed him dubiously. Akaashi was pretty antisocial. The only people he hung around with besides Bokuto were Kuroo and Kenma, sometimes Sugawara. And none of those people would’ve warranted a vague description as ‘just a friend.’

So, he had been with somebody Bokuto didn’t know in the evening hour, and didn’t want to talk about… His gaze narrowed.

“Stop drilling holes into the side of my head with your eyes,” Akaashi said, turning to glare. “Just watch your dumbass movie.”

Something clicked. The way Akaashi’s voice had sounded over the phone, the timing, the secrecy—“Were you gonna get laid?” Bokuto gasped.

Akaashi’s cheeks flushed, his jaw clenched. “Mind your own business.”

“I bet you’re pretty mad at me for calling you over here for what you call nothing when you could’ve been having sex,” Bokuto taunted, unable to resist prodding at the subject for some reason.

“Bokuto. If you don’t shut up about it, I’m leaving right now.”

Remembering his wall-friend, Bokuto shut up immediately and let his savior finish dinner in peace. Akaashi’s bite followed his bark.

He managed to convince Akaashi to stay for another movie, this time one of his choosing. It was an exciting thriller, but it was hard for Bokuto to stay focused. He kept looking over at Akaashi, endeared by the way his long eyelashes were fluttering, struggling to keep his eyes open. He was too tired to be focusing on the movie either.

The part of Bokuto’s brain that stored a little bit of reason was telling him to shake Akaashi fully awake, to send him home since he had work in the morning and Bokuto had practice. The other part of Bokuto’s brain that was living in fear told him to make Akaashi stay and wake up extra early to send him home then.

“Hey,” he murmured to a dozing Akaashi. His friend blinked his eyes open. “It’s late. I’m going to get you a blanket and pillow and wake you up early so you can go get ready for work, yeah?”

Akaashi sighed sleepily. “All part of your evil plot tonight,” he mumbled. “Didn’t want to be alone?”

“Of course I don’t. Besides, you’re good company even when you’re not here to help ward away whatever is here,” Bokuto said, rising to retrieve a blanket and pillow as promised.

“You better not forget to wake me up,” was all Akaashi said before making himself comfortable. He seemed to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Bokuto wished he could possess that kind of ease. He warily searched his home once again before getting ready to go to bed. He found nothing, but he made sure to keep his bedroom door wide open. He could see the couch where Akaashi slept easily that way. He hesitated before leaving the bathroom light on, slightly ajar to light up the hallway, leaving his own room dark as it usually would be. He turned the fan on, praying it kept humming away all night.

\---

Three days passed with no other strange occurrences. Bokuto was finally relaxing. He was sleeping with all the lights off, wasn’t checking hidden spaces, and the intense paranoia was waning away.

He was taking the trash out late Thursday afternoon when he stumbled into the landlady who lived on the ground floor. “Excuse me!” He bowed to the older woman. Comparing Bokuto’s last landlord and this one, they couldn’t be more different; the deep smile lines around her mouth and the creases around her eyes spoke volumes about the more recent one.

“Hello, young man. How have you been?” Bokuto took her bag of trash from her and gave his automatic standard polite answer.

They made small talk before he gingerly asked, “Do—ma’am, have there ever been complaints made from other tenants living in my apartment before me?”

“What sort of complaints?” she puzzled. “Well, the walls are thin, unfortunately. If you have a noisy neighbor you can file—”

“Ah, no. It’s just… It almost feels like my place is haunted,” he admitted in a rush of breath. He cringed when her brows raised.

She chuckled. “Nobody has passed away in this complex. They’re still fairly new, you know.” The old woman started to walk away before she turned around. “I believe in spirits, mind you. But if you’re experiencing something, it isn’t because of a death in your home.”

Those words were more menacing to Bokuto than if she had told him a previous tenant had been murdered in his apartment. How could he fight it if he couldn’t understand it?

Kuroo came over not long later. This time, he would not be allowing the lean man to convince him into watching another scary movie.

“Your boyfriend isn’t with you?” Bokuto asked when he opened the door to let Kuroo inside.

“Kenma is hanging out with Hinata,” he said a little wistfully as he tossed his jacket on the recliner.

Bokuto was always impressed with how much in love Kuroo and Kenma were with each other. Despite knowing each other for so long, they never got tired of each other. Well, Kenma sometimes got sick of Kuroo’s shit, but they were still perfect together.

“Little Hoot!” Kuroo exclaimed gleefully, noticing his carved gift on Bokuto’s table.

“I think ‘Kaashi thinks it’s ugly,” Bokuto said, going into the kitchen to mix the stir fry on the stove.

Kuroo sniffed and leaned against the counter. “Akaashi’s taste is boring, so of course he does. Also, I’m not surprised you find his opinion more important than mine.”

“Huh? What do you mean? I listen to you!”

Kuroo gave him a long look. “Never mind. Anyways, you texted me and told me you had a ghost?”

Bokuto almost knocked the pan to the floor in his excitement to whirl around.

“ _Careful_. That’s my dinner.”

“It’s either a ghost or a man in my walls!”

“What?”

Bokuto explained the situation to his friend, including the part where he made Akaashi come over, though he remained vague about that, sure Kuroo would make fun of him.

“And my landlady just told me today that nobody has ever died here, so like, I really don’t know what’s happening. ‘Kaashi didn’t believe me and you probably don’t either, but I’m sure of it.”

Kuroo’s eyes glinted. “Well, I just told you Akaashi is boring. Shall we get in contact with your ghost friend and ask what it’s doing here?”

Bokuto blanched. “It hasn’t done anything for awhile! It might have left.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Little Hoot tilted and fell to its side on the table. Bokuto let out an embarrassing shriek, and even Kuroo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Bokuto began to chant, backing up towards his front door. There were chills up his spine and his arm hair had raised. “You saw that, right?”

Kuroo set the owl back upright. “That was weird, dude. But calm down.” He stared down at the object. “It just told us it wasn’t gone. I think it wants to communicate.”

Bokuto shivered. “At least someone knows I’m not crazy now.”

“Do you have any candles?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Yeah, fair. Call Akaashi.”

As expected, Akaashi was not down for the plan, yet he owned candles. He came over after Bokuto told him he made stir fry.

“You’re a terrible influence, you know that, right?” he immediately said to Kuroo. “He doesn’t need any more encouragement.”

Bokuto dished Akaashi a plate. “He saw it though! He’s a witness.”

Kuroo set his phone down on the coffee table. “So, Kenma is about to come over with Hinata.”

“Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed excitedly, not at all bothered that they were invited without his permission because he was a People Person, then frowned. “Wait, I don’t have enough to feed everyone.”

“How on earth did you manage to persuade Kenma to participate in this nonsense?” Akaashi said after carefully chewing a bite. “Ah. Hinata must have done the convincing.”

Kuroo helped himself to a huge plate of Bokuto’s cooking. Noticing Bokuto’s distress, he assured, “They have to already eaten by now, knowing Hinata’s huge appetite. And, Akaashi, _you_ were swayed to come help out pretty damn easily—I wonder why that is.”

“A wonder,” Akaashi replied in a rather frosty tone.

“Because I said there was stir fry! I can always win Akaashi over with food,” Bokuto said.

Kuroo smirked, sitting down in the recliner. “Yep, that’s all there is to it. Akaashi is pretty simple-minded, huh? He _really likes_ your cooking.”

To that, Akaashi sent him a warning look.

Bokuto could tell there was something he was missing, but he couldn’t figure it out. Sometimes Bokuto could just not follow their underlying conversations. He accepted it a long time ago, trying to tell himself it had nothing to do with his own intelligence.

The three had long since finished eating, no leftovers to spare when Kenma and Hinata arrived.

Hinata immediately sniffed the air, bouncing on the balls of his feet as soon as he was through the door. “I smell something good!”

Bokuto groaned loudly. “I’m sorry, you guys. I would have made more food if I knew I’d have this many guests.”

The only other skill he was really good at other than volleyball was cooking. His friends knew that, and they were always out to eat whatever delicious meals he made. He loved the praise. It was disheartening when Hinata’s face fell.

However, the smaller man deflated for only a second before he brightened with his signature huge smile. “That’s okay! I heard we’re going to be talking to a ghost, so that definitely makes up for it.”

“You already ate anyway,” Kenma muttered before falling into his boyfriend’s lap on the recliner, automatically leaning into him like they had a magnetic attraction. Hinata took a seat on the opposite corner of the couch as Akaashi, leaving Bokuto to sit in between the two.

The two candles Akaashi had brought over were already on the coffee table. None of them actually knew what they were doing, possessing zero prior experience with communicating with spirits, but Kuroo was excited to wing it.

“Oh-kayyy,” Kuroo drawled. “Bokuto, would you like to explain your situation since these two haven’t heard yet?”

Bokuto explained his haunting experiences with the two new arrivals, uncharacteristically solemn. Hinata listened intently with huge eyes, while Kenma appeared liable to fall asleep at any moment.

“ _Wow_ ,” Hinata said, very impressed. “You’re so brave, Bokuto, being able to live here with the ghost messing with you!”

Bokuto puffed up his chest. “Thanks, Hinata! It hasn’t been easy.”

Kuroo snorted but left it at that. “Let’s light the candles. Bokuto, do you have a lighter or matches?”

“If I didn’t have candles, why would you think I’d have those?”

“You could be a smoker!”

“Hinata, we are professional athletes—we can’t do that! Tell me you don’t smoke,” Bokuto exclaimed.

“Of course not!” the redhead cried, affronted, as if he hadn’t just implied that maybe the spiker did.

They all looked at Akaashi, who had sighed (he did that a lot around them) before standing to search in his jacket by the door. He pulled out a small box of matches and lit the candles. “I knew that this would happen.”

“Hit the lights, please, Akaashi,” Kuroo said eagerly when Akaashi went to put the matches back in the pocket of his jacket. He obeyed without a word, returning to the couch, knowing his way around Bokuto’s place well enough already to not stumble into anything.

Bokuto’s small apartment felt different in the dark, a palpable stillness that made Bokuto feel uneasy. He wondered if any of his friends felt the same way as him, or if he alone felt on edge due to his experiences.

The single two sources of light flickered dimly in front of them. It was hard to make out each others’ faces, but the whole coffee table was lit, illuminating Little Hoot, a succulent, and an empty dish, scraped clean that one of them had left there.

“So I was thinking we could just, you know, ask it yes or no questions using the two different candles,” Kuroo proposed.

Feeling his fingers twitch nervously, Bokuto spoke up apprehensively, “Is this really a good idea? This is where it all goes wrong in the horror movies.”

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, Bokuto?” Kuroo challenged. “Hinata thinks you’re so brave…”

“I am!” he defended.

“He is!” Hinata agreed enthusiastically. He was literal sunshine. Bokuto just wanted to hug him.

“Well, if Bokuto doesn’t want to do it—” Akaashi started, leaning forward as if to blow out the candles.

Bokuto stopped him by grabbing his elbow. “No! I—I’m not a chicken, so let’s do it.”

“This is so ridiculous,” Akaashi murmured. He thought he could see the shape of Kenma’s head nod in agreement.

Unfortunately for the pair, the number of stupid people in the room outnumbered their rational minds.

“I think it’s best if Bokuto kicks this off, since he’s living with it and all,” Kuroo said as if Akaashi hadn’t spoken.

Bokuto cleared his throat. “Okay, here I go… um… Hello.” He stopped there, not sure where to start.

Kuroo cackled. “So awkward!” Even Kenma and Hinata giggled. Akaashi was probably smiling, Bokuto thought.

If he weren’t mostly shameless, he would probably be blushing. “Because this _is_ awkward!” He waited until everyone was serious again (as serious as they could be) before trying another time. “Hello, spirit. I’m Bokuto, as you are probably well aware of. Guys, introduce yourselves.”

They all did, Akaashi and Kenma kindly cooperating.

“Spirit, the left candle is for ‘yes’ and the right candle is for ‘no.’ Please communicate with us by extinguishing the flames,” Kuroo instructed.

“Spirit, are you with us?” Bokuto asked. “By the way, when we mean left, it would be my left as if looking ahead of me!” he added helpfully.

They waited with bated breath for a long moment.

Bokuto was a mixture of relief and disappointment when it seemed as if nothing was going to happen—until the left candle flickered almost completely into darkness before leaping to full flame once again.

‘ _Yes_.’

He gasped, the goosebumps returning to his skin, his neck tingling when he shivered. Without thought, he found his hand grasping for Akaashi’s, who gently curled his cold fingers around his own.

“Oh my god!” Hinata screamed, flailing his legs out as if he didn’t know what to do with his whole self. His foot hit the edge of the table, and it shook with a rattle.

“Well, well, well,” Kuroo said.

“That doesn’t really mean anything.” Kenma said quietly, although he now seemed a bit more interested. “Try another question.”

“Uh, okay,” Bokuto said a tad breathlessly, trying to recover. “Spirit, why are you living with me?”

“That wasn’t a yes or no question,” Akaashi reminded.

Bokuto huffed out a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. Spirit, do you have good intentions?” His hand squeezed Akaashi’s, heart fluttering. He really was hoping his spirit was harmless and could be reasoned with to go away.

Again, the left flame momentarily flickered away to nearly nothing.

“Good!” Bokuto released a huge sigh of relief. “But you’ve really been freaking me out. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Spirit, have you been trying to scare Bokuto on purpose?” Kuroo asked.

The right flame flickered this time.

“Guys, this is really scary,” Hinata said in a hushed voice. “Like, we are actually speaking with a ghost.”

With every tensed up muscle of Bokuto’s being, he agreed.

“Spirit, were you once alive?” Kenma asked, surprisingly. Apparently it was finally authentic enough for him to participate.

The left flame flickered.

The answer shocked the whole room, drawing in breaths collectively. This was a person. A _deceased_ person. It made the situation feel undeniably _real_ now.

“Spirit, are you haunting Bokuto?” Kuroo asked.

_‘No.’_

“Are you haunting his apartment?”

_‘No.’_

Bokuto scowled. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t lie, spirit.” What else could it be then?

“It’s neither,” Kenma murmured thoughtfully. “Bokuto, have you brought any new objects into your home lately?” He stared at the coffee table.

“Huh? Well…” Bokuto tried to think. “I bought a new remote because I accidentally broke the old one. My mom gave me a fern plant that’s in the kitchen. Oh! And Little Hoot. Kuroo gave him to me as a late house warming present.”

Their gazes locked on the little wooden owl, the wide painted yellow eyes glowing at them seemingly innocently.

“Kuroo, where did you find that?” Akaashi asked.

“I took Kenma to this antique shop that he wanted to stop by for a while, and I saw that little gem and immediately thought of Bokuto. Wait. You think—Little Hoot is hosting the spirit?” Kuroo looked to the little owl as if betrayed.

Bokuto took a deep breath. “Spirit, are you attached to Little Hoot?”

The left flame much more slowly flickered down this time, but it was undeniable that it was an unnatural dance of fire. Yes, there was a spirit here in his apartment, and it was inside Little Hoot.

“Spirit, did you have something you wanted to tell us?” Kuroo asked.

No answer.

“Spirit, do you have a name?”

Again, nothing.

They tried some more, but it appeared as though Little Hoot’s spirit had left. Or ran out of energy or something.

Eventually, they blew out the candles and switched the lights back on. Bokuto’s hand was sweaty when he finally released Akaashi from his grip, free of the darkness. They were all in a state of disbelief, not quite able to comprehend what they had just experienced. And, of course, they couldn’t look at the little wooden owl the same way anymore.

“Kuroo, _what the fuck,_ ” Bokuto said, picking up the pieces after his mind had been blown. “What kind of present is this? No offense, Little Hoot.”

“It’s not like I knew!” Kuroo cried. He was shrugging on his jacket.

“Yeah, but—hey, are you leaving?”

“Kenma and I both have to get up early tomorrow,” Kuroo said, and Kenma nodded, grabbing his own things.

Bokuto turned to see Hinata doing the same. “Yeah, I’ll be going too since I need a ride.”

“You guys are leaving, just like that, after this huge revelation? Are you going to at least take Little Hoot with you?”

Kuroo raised his brow. “And why ever would I be taking Little Hoot? He’s your gift.”

“I don’t know, because it’s fucking haunted and that’s a terrible gift,” Bokuto said hotly, his arms falling open to emphasize his woe.

Kuroo only grinned and he knew he was screwed. Bokuto turned desperately to Akaashi, who was placing the candles back into the bag he brought. He seemed to be planning to leave as well.

“I’ll help you clean up the kitchen,” Akaashi said, the others leaving shortly after thanking him for the food and the ‘fun, crazy night’ as Hinata had excitedly put it.

“Akaashi,” he said reverently, almost moved to tears when he found he wasn’t left alone. They were terrible friends, all except for Akaashi. Bokuto knew there was a reason why he usually called the quiet man first.

Akaashi washed the dishes while Bokuto dried and put them away. “That was…something,” Akaashi eventually said.

Bokuto bit his lip, fingers drumming against the counter as he waited for another dish to be passed to him. “Yeah. Something.” He was being unusually quiet.

“You’re scared,” Akaashi said, handing him the last dish to be put away.

The taller man rubbed the towel vigorously across the plate, pursing his lips. “What do I do with Little Hoot? I can’t just throw him away. He’ll probably haunt me forever if I do that. Also, it just feels wrong to do that to him. On the other hand, I can’t live everyday wondering what he’s going to do next—my heart can’t take it.” He visibly shuddered.

Akaashi was silent for a long moment before speaking. “Bokuto, would you like to stay with me up until the weekend. Until you figure out what to do with…Little Hoot?”

Bokuto’s golden eyes went wide. He turned his whole entire body to face Akaashi. “You mean it? You’ll let me stay with you?” He was practically bouncing in place with his excitement.

“Yes, I mean it. _Only_ till the weekend,” he repeated sternly.

“Akaashi!” he cried with a wide, joyful smile. “You're the best! Let me pack.”


	2. Two.

Bokuto piled way too much into his duffle bag before Akaashi sent him back to his bedroom to unload half of it. “It’s only for three days, Bokuto, you don’t need five pairs of pants. Did you even remember to pack your own shampoo and conditioner?” He hadn’t remembered.

It took less than ten minutes to get to Akaashi’s larger, cozier apartment. As soon as they got inside, Akaashi was pulling out a futon and laying it out in his bedroom, yawning as he directed Bokuto where to put his stuff. Bokuto checked his watch, feeling guilty when he saw how late it was. Bokuto had morning practice, but he knew Akaashi also had work tomorrow, aware that his friend was overworked as it was.

Akaashi went into the bathroom first to get ready for bed, and Bokuto made sure to hurry when it was his turn. When he returned, Akaashi was already laying in bed, lamp still lit, narrow eyes sleepily opening when he heard Bokuto slipping into the futon on the floor.

Bokuto stared at him, suddenly caught off guard by the way the other’s eyes looked so dark and intense in the dim light as they met Bokuto’s, a little enraptured by the long, slim slope of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbone that wasn’t pressed into the pillow, and the slight part of his pink lips. Bokuto knew Akaashi was pretty, but unexpected moments like this one still blindsided him.

“Bokuto?” Akaashi asked, his smooth voice low in the tranquility of the quiet. “Are you alright?”

Bokuto blinked slowly, his lips curving into a gentle smile. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Akaashi. And for helping me clean up tonight. And going along with the whole talking-to-the-dead thing in the first place, even though I know you hated every second of it. You’re great, you know?”

Akaashi only stared at him before he slowly raised the blanket up to his nose, seeming to burrow in it. “You’re welcome, Bokuto. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you until I saw it for myself.”

Bokuto chuckled, shifting his head so he could see Akaashi at a more comfortable angle. “That’s just how you are!” he replied cheerfully. “You’re the logic in this relationship. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Now Akaashi’s blanket almost covered his eyes. What a shame—he had pretty eyes, such a dark blue you might mistake them for black. “Bokuto…”

“Yeah?”

A pause. “Never mind. Get some sleep.” Akaashi reached over to switch off the lamp without another word.

Bokuto likely would have been up all night, tossing and turning as he thought about Little Hoot and what he needed to do about him, but Akaashi’s presence calmed him to the point where he could close his eyes and fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

\---

Akaashi gave him his spare key so that he could get back inside the apartment after practice ended. Bokuto knew he could make himself at home and Akaashi wouldn’t mind, but he still felt a little weird being alone in another person’s home, despite how close they were.

He rested on the couch, watching a game show on Akaashi’s flatscreen, waiting for his friend to get home. While physically tired from practice, he was also an endless bundle of energy that needed an outlet. Akaashi was supposed to be getting home in a couple of hours (very long hours for Bokuto) and then, since it was a Friday night, they were going to be meeting up with their friends at a bar. Bokuto was so damn _bored_. He contemplated going on a run before a painful twinge in his calf reminded him he had done enough of that for one day, resigning himself to his fate.

Close to five o’ clock, the end of Akaashi’s shift as an important editor for his big, fancy company, Bokuto received a demoralizing text.

_4:38 p.m._

****From**** : Akaashi <3

****Running late because something came up last minute. I’ll be home by 6. I’m sorry. If you’re hungry before then, help yourself to the fridge.** **

****

****

Bokuto shot back a text immediately, telling him he understood, even though his patience had already been shot. He sighed, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, crossing his arms as he stared up at the ceiling.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up to a _thump thump_. For a beat, Bokuto thought he was at his own apartment and Little Hoot was messing with him some more before he realized where he was and that he must have fallen asleep.

Stretching with a groan, Bokuto rolled off the couch to check who was at the door. There was a tall man with carelessly styled brown hair and a handsome face. He frowned, not sure if he should be answering Akaashi’s door, but when the man raised his fist to knock again, Bokuto opened the door.

The man looked a tad familiar, though Bokuto was unable to place where he knew him from. He appeared to be surprised that Akaashi wasn’t the one behind the door.

“Hey. Where’s Akaashi?” the man asked casually, sticking his hand in the pocket of his jeans. He was fashionable, wearing a trench coat over a collared shirt and a pair of oxfords.

Bokuto looked down to check his watch. Almost six. “He’s held up at work. Um… May I ask who you are?”

“Oh, right. We’ve actually met before, you know. I’m Futakuchi, and you’re Bokuto. You and Akaashi and some others were at Galileo for somebody’s birthday, and I got his number that night.” His mouth stretched into a cheeky grin.

Now Bokuto remembered him. This guy had been persistent, swaggering up to the bar counter where Bokuto and Akaashi were ordering more drinks, gaze singularly locked on Akaashi.

Futakuchi shamelessly used a cheesy pickup line, making his intentions clear, and Akaashi’s response was a roll of his eyes. This hadn’t deterred the cocky man, prompting him to ask who Akaashi was there with.

He had pointed towards Bokuto, who Futakuchi sized up for the first time since making his way over to them. “What, are you dating?”

“No,” Akaashi had said curtly, avoiding his gaze.

“No, but if you’re bothering him, that won’t stop me from kicking your ass!” Bokuto remembered saying. The liquor certainly made him more aggressive than usual, but still, if Akaashi wanted the man gone, Bokuto would’ve assured it to come about.

He didn’t remember much of what happened after that, but apparently at some point, Futakuchi had succeeded in gaining Akaashi’s number. And now he was, for some bizarre reason, at Akaashi’s door.

“Oh… Yeah,” Bokuto said. “What are you doing here?”

Futakuchi’s eyebrows flashed up in surprise, then his mouth twisted into a coy smile. “Well… I’m not sure Akaashi would like for me to tell you what he and I get up to.”

Bokuto was blank for longer than he cared to admit before he connected the dots. As soon as he realized what the lecherous man was implying, his expression involuntarily turned into a scowl. “With _you?_ ”

Suddenly, Akaashi appeared next to Futakuchi in the hallway outside the apartment, clearly wary.

“Akaashi!” Futakuchi greeted with a smile.

“With _him?_ ” Bokuto cried, aghast.

Akaashi’s gaze turned dark. “Futakuchi, you’ve come by unannounced as usual. Leave,” he gritted through his teeth.

Futakuchi shrugged as Akaashi slipped past him into the apartment. “You don’t usually complain too much, once I make you realize it’s worth it, but since you have company already… See you next time.” He turned and walked away, leaving Bokuto open-mouthed—the audacity!

“Bokuto. Close the door please.”

Mechanically, Bokuto closed the door, turning to stare at Akaashi, who was taking off his work shoes in the entryway.

“Seriously?” Bokuto said when Akaashi remained silent. “You sleep with that asshole?”

Akaashi studiously avoided his gaze as he left to walk towards his bedroom. “He’s not that bad when he’s not trying to be a little shit,” he defended himself. Bokuto followed after him.

“He was so gross at the bar! How did he ever manage to convince you to give him your number, let alone get you into bed?” Bokuto stood in the doorway of Akaashi’s bedroom as the other started stripping himself of his work clothes. Bokuto was too worked up to bother to remember to give Akaashi privacy.

“He wanted me,” Akaashi snapped, finally whipping his head to shoot daggers at Bokuto. Quickly realizing his tone, his face fell, and he resumed unbuttoning his shirt. “Sorry. It was just a long day, and I don’t like feeling that you think less of me now,” he said quietly.

Instantly, the heat in Bokuto diminished. Guilt gnawed at his insides. “I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to make you feel badly,” he said sorrowfully, and Akaashi looked up again, meeting his wide, regretful yellow eyes. “I… I want to make sure you’re happy.”

Akaashi pulled on a black sweater before he ran his long fingers through his thick waves of hair. “It’s only sex. He doesn’t make me happy, exactly, just satisfied.”

This did not make Bokuto feel any better. In fact, he kind of felt worse—an uneasiness in his stomach and an ache in his chest. “Oh. Okay.”

Akaashi observed him for a few long seconds, making Bokuto squirm. What was he reading off him? “I won’t give anyone my number at the bar tonight if I’m asked,” he said.

Bokuto nodded haltingly, a bit bemused. “I—Yeah, don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Akaashi turned away to finish getting dressed, and Bokuto, although still lost, a novice at deciphering underlying conversation, followed suit. Maybe some alcohol could help him make some sense of what had gone unsaid between he and Akaashi.

\---

Alcohol did _not_ improve his critical thinking. It did, however, certainly make everything funnier to him.

Bokuto, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, Hinata, and Sugawara sat around a curved booth at a popular bar, a meeting that did not happen as often as it used to, now that they were grown ups and had responsibilities.

Currently, Sugawara was wailing his dismay about how he hadn’t gotten a hunky cop’s phone number the other day, and the way his normally angelic face was contorting so unflatteringly was entirely much too funny for Bokuto.

“Stop laughing, Bokuto,” Sugawara bemoaned. “My pain should not be a source of amusement for you.”

Bokuto put a hand over his mouth in an attempt to smother his laughter, but Sugawara looked like an overgrown man-baby with that expression—he couldn’t help the next shaking round of giggles.

“Okay, okay, why don’t you come with me to the bar to buy some more drinks?” Akaashi suggested as soon as he saw Bokuto wiping away tears, to which Sugawara began cursing at him. Jeez, for a teacher, he had quite the vulgar mouth.

Bokuto easily agreed, following the slender man on slightly wobbly legs to lean on the bar top.

“On a scale of one to ten, how intoxicated are you, Bokuto?” Akaashi asked as the bartender started working on their drink requests.

“Um, like a four and a half. I still have practice tomorrow morning,” Bokuto said after some thought.

Akaashi hummed. “Good. I thought you might have forgotten.” Bokuto wondered if Akaashi thought he was his mother sometimes.

“Hey, you’re Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

Bokuto looked over to see a tall woman flashing a confident smile at him, hair cut short into a stylish bob, eye makeup dark, lips a dangerous red.

“Uh,” he started, caught off guard, “yes!”

“I’ve seen your games on television,” the woman said, taking a step closer to him. Her gaze was intense. “That’s not where I really know you from, though. I used to watch you in tournaments in high school—I was on the girl’s team from a different school. I think you’re really cool. I’m Suzuki Aiko, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

‘I think you’re really cool,’ echoed in his brain. His ego swelled so much that he short-circuited immediately after those words, not catching her name.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “So you’re a fan, huh? Thank you so much!” He looked over at Akaashi, who wore an annoyed expression as he watched the interaction. Usually it took a lot for Akaashi to get truly upset about something, but it was true that the bartender was taking a while with their drinks, so that was probably getting on his friend’s nerves. To distract him until their drinks came, he said, “Hey, hey, hey! If you know me from high school, you know of Akaashi here, then, huh? He was my setter.”

The woman’s eyes flickered over to Akaashi. “Yeah, I kind of remember. Hello.”

Akaashi gave a small nod.

“Here’s your drinks! I’m so sorry, I’m new and had to ask about something,” the bartender returned, his face painfully apologetic.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said politely, receiving the tray. He turned to walk away.

“Well, it was nice to—” Bokuto started, ready to go back to the booth with Akaashi now that they obtained their drinks, except he was cut off by his fan.

“I’d love to get your phone number.”

Akaashi’s head whipped around so fast the spiker thought it would spin right off his neck; Bokuto felt another intense urge to burst into laughter.

Bokuto didn’t have a reason to deny this woman, exactly. He was single and crush-less. She was attractive, confident, and best of all, she thought he was cool. But when he met her eyes, he found himself looking past her, to Akaashi, who had frozen, staring back at him with an unreadable look.

“Ah… I’m sorry, I can’t. I appreciate your interest, however, and I hope you continue to support me in volleyball!” He bowed deeply.

“No problem,” the woman said with a wry smile. “You were worth a shot.”

Bokuto tossed his arm across across Akaashi’s shoulders once he caught up with him, who had resumed wading through the crowd. “Hey, hey, hey, did you see that? I must be popular,” he bragged.

Akaashi wore a small smile. “Yeah. I saw.”


	3. Three.

Bokuto managed to convince Drunk Kuroo the previous night to accompany him to the antique shop after Bokuto finished with practice. Kenma, unfortunately, had work to do, but Hinata, being on the same team, was eager to join. With a bit of wheedling, Bokuto wrangled Akaashi into coming along as well.

So, that’s how the four of them ended up in front of the tiny, decrepit shop that was pretty much in the middle of nowhere on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

“Kuroo, again, what the fuck? How did you not expect to come out with something haunted from this place?” Bokuto stared in horror at the peeling white paint of the tucked-away building.

“Dude, Kenma was really interested in it. Stop blaming me.”

Hinata bounced excitedly, hand already on the door handle. “I think it’s cool looking! I totally get what Kenma saw.”

The shop’s interior was much more inviting than its exterior, admittedly. It was cramped, objects everywhere, but there was a warm atmosphere among all of its clutter. Although, in need of a good deep clean—Akaashi’s arm accidentally brushed against a lampshade, sending up a cloud of dust that made him sneeze.

Kuroo began to lead the group towards the counter, invisible from the front door due to the obstacles. “Oooh!” They stopped to watch as Hinata picked up a vintage leather volleyball. His eyes went huge in awe.

“Nice! I wonder how old that is!” Bokuto’s boisterous voice seemed to ring especially loudly in the quiet shop. Akaashi squeezed his forearm gently, like he usually did whenever Bokuto got a little too overenthusiastic. Bokuto instantly lowered his voice. “Are you going to buy that, Hinata? Maybe I should if you aren’t. It’s so cool.”

“You’ve learned absolutely nothing,” Akaashi said, stunned.

Kuroo cackled.

“How can I help you?” A tall man with raven hair and piercing blue eyes silently appeared from behind a bookcase, making them all jump. “Oh, you,” he said some amount of surprise when he saw Kuroo. He wore a name tag that read ‘Kageyama.’ “What are you doing back here?” he asked bluntly.

“That tone of voice wasn’t very polite,” Kuroo scolded. “How do you remember me, anyway?”

Kageyama gazed pointedly at the rooster nest at the top of his head before he moved on. “We don’t refund, as we told you when you made your purchase.”

“Irrelevant, that isn’t what I came back for,” Kuroo said with a wave of his hand. “Actually, we came here to get some history on the item I bought if you have that kind of information somewhere.”

Kageyama sighed. “If I can find it in the record book.” His eyes snapped toward Hinata, who was spinning the volleyball on the tip of his finger. “Hey, idiot, that’s asking for a disaster—cut it out.”

Hinata scowled. “Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?” Still, he set the volleyball down.

“Did you bring it with you? I don’t remember what the item was,” Kageyama asked, leading them back to the counter.

“Nope, but I have a picture.” Bokuto pulled out his phone to open his Instagram post, when once upon a time, he had been proud of Little Hoot and thought the owl was endearing enough to share with his followers.

Kageyama pulled out a thick binder and dropped it with a _thunk_ on top of the counter, muttering irritatedly under his breath. Apparently, there was very little organization to the record keeping.

“You should do things digitally,” Hinata pointed out helpfully.

Kageyama’s cold stare killed him on the spot. “You’re a genius.” The little ball of sunshine quelled. “Oh, here it is. There’s not much on it. The artist herself brought it to us a few years ago, but it was carved eighteen years before that.”

“Who’s the carver?” Bokuto asked eagerly. This lady was the original source, so she had to know what was up with Little Hoot.

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to give you the information of who gave it to us for confidentiality reasons, but since she’s the creator of the piece and we can give information about original sources, it should be fine…” Kageyama mused. He pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down before pushing it across the counter. “Here.”

Bokuto accepted it, finding the name and phone number of Little Hoot’s creator written in a messy scrawl.

“Why so interested in a little owl, anyways?” Kageyama asked, leaning his elbows against the counter.

Everyone remained silent, afraid to be scoffed at (Kageyama was definitely a scoffer), except for Hinata.

“Little Hoot is possessed!” he blurted excitedly.

Kageyama’s brow raised. “Huh. So that’s why some professional volleyball players are interested in the art of wood carving.”

“You know of us!” Bokuto grinned. “Hinata, we have a fan.”

Kageyama completely ignored Bokuto, focusing an intense stare upon Hinata, who was tensing up as if preparing for a fight. “You can _fly_.”

Hinata blinked in surprise before he puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. “Yeah,” he said simply.

Bokuto crossed his arms, frowning. He definitely wasn’t used to anyone ignoring his own volleyball skills. The fact that Kageyama seemed unimpressed by him bothered him, although he wasn’t jealous that Hinata was praised. The redhead deserved every bit of it.

As if reading his mind, Akaashi leaned close to Bokuto’s ear. “You’re still very cool,” he whispered. The athlete shivered, feeling the other man’s warm breath ghost across his skin.

“Thanks, Akaashi,” he whispered back.

He looked away to find Kuroo observing them, a knowing expression on his face. Bokuto’s head tilted in confusion, but he was distracted by Kageyama sliding another piece of paper to Hinata this time.

“If you, uh, want to talk about volleyball sometime,” he mumbled, cheeks pink, avoiding eye contact with anyone except for Hinata.

Hinata was stupidly vacant, then abruptly flushed fire hydrant red, realizing he was receiving the worker’s phone number. He carefully accepted it, stuttering out a reply, and Bokuto felt even better about not being acknowledged, because it wasn’t like he was wanting Kageyama’s number. He snuck a glance over at Akaashi, who wore a smile he probably didn’t realize had crept into place.

“Good luck with your owl thing,” Kageyama dismissed them. He disappeared into the backroom, obviously fleeing from their scrutiny.

\---

“I’m going to need some more information to know whether that Kageyama guy is good enough for Hinata or not,” Bokuto said to Akaashi over breakfast the next morning.

Akaashi only hummed in agreement.

Akaashi wasn’t a morning person in the slightest. His hair was messy—although it always looked like that and still managed to look good—and he had yet to summon the energy to change out of his pyjamas, wearing boxers and an oversized shirt that Bokuto thought looked kind of familiar. Was that one of Bokuto’s old shirts from high school? He couldn’t remember for sure. The other man sat at the dining table with him, nursing on a cup of straight black coffee, eyes sleepy behind his wire frame glasses.

Bokuto, on the other hand, thrived in the mornings. As soon as his eyes opened from slumber, he was up and going. His routine was thrown off somewhat, not being in his own home, but he still maintained some balance, having showered, dressed, spiked his hair, and made a protein drink and breakfast. He was full of energy that needed release.

“Hey, do you think that lady works on Sundays? I’m going to call her as soon as possible so I can return Little Hoot to her. And I can get out of your hair soon that way.” The owlish man shoveled a mouthful of egg into his mouth.

Akaashi lowered his gaze to his mug, caressing his thumb around the rim of it. “You haven’t been much of a bother,” he admitted quietly.

“I woke you up really early on a Sunday,” Bokuto objected. “You sleep in on the weekends because you’re always overworking to meet deadlines throughout the week. I’ve been a bother.”

The other still didn’t look up. “I know it wasn’t on purpose. You just do everything with volume, even _waking up_ … I like you being around.”

Bokuto couldn’t help the grin that stretched ear to ear. “I like your company too, ‘Kaashi.” He picked up his phone and pulled the piece of paper with the carver’s number closer to him. “But you always remind me about boundaries, and I really think I’m pushing yours, so…” He put the phone to his ear.

“ _This is Kiyama Azumi speaking, how may I help you?_ ” a woman’s voice picked up.

Bokuto introduced himself before asking the woman if she was a carver. She was. He then asked if he could speak with her about one of her pieces, and she agreed to meet with him that afternoon.

“Akaaaashiiii, are you coming with me today to bring Little Hoot to Kiyama-san? I hope you are, because I’m going to have to be alone with Little Hoot if you won’t, not to mention you drive a lot better than me.”

Akaashi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We have to drive?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of far out. It’ll be a day trip!”

A couple hours later, Bokuto’s things were all packed up again, and the two headed over to Bokuto’s to drop his bags off and retrieve the little owl.

Bokuto brought Little Hoot into the car along with snacks from his kitchen. “I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long,” Akaashi said with an exasperated smile.

“I hope Little Hoot isn’t upset I left him this weekend,” Bokuto said as they pulled away from the complex. He held the owl up to his face and said very sincerely, “I’m really sorry about that. Right now, I think we’re taking you where you wanted to go. You’ll be reunited with Kiyama-san.”

It took a while for Bokuto to finally run out of things to ramble about, Akaashi nodding along, but when he eventually quieted, the gentle thrum of the car engine knocked him out.

He was asleep long enough that the scenery changed from cityscape to greenery. He likely would have slept all the way there if Akaashi’s phone hadn’t rang, stuck to the dashboard so Akaashi could follow the GPS.

Bokuto rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, frowning when he saw the caller ID that Akaashi was choosing to avoid answering.

_Futakuchi_. He couldn’t help the unpleasant expression his face twisted into.

The call was ignored, going to voicemail, though the man didn’t give up—he called again immediately.

Akaashi sighed. Before he could pick up the phone to answer, Bokuto used a finger to accept the call, switching it to speaker. “Keiji is busy,” he practically spat.

“ _Oh? Is this Bokuto?_ ”

“He isn’t going to be meeting you anymore.” He paid no attention to the way Akaashi looked over at him.

“ _You sound like a jealous boyfriend, which last I checked, you can’t claim that title…_ ”

Before Bokuto could think it through, he said vindictively, “Things change. Stop contacting my boyfriend,” and then promptly ended the call.

Bokuto couldn’t help the satisfaction that filled him, sending a cheeky grin over to the driver. He felt as if a train hit him when he realized.

Akaashi’s fingers curled around the wheel in a death grip. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide, skin flushed a red shade that Bokuto had only ever seen on Akaashi a handful of times in all his years of knowing the man.

He felt like he fucked up. He did sound like a jealous boyfriend. _Why_ did he sound like that? Why did Akaashi look so shaken?

“I—” Bokuto swallowed around a lump in his throat, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Akaashi exhaled breath he had sucked in suddenly. “That…” He finally glanced over at the athlete, who was nervously fidgeting. “Why?”

Bokuto ran a hand through his hair, displacing the gel. “I don’t know,” he decided to honestly admit.

“I’d like you to think about it,” Akaashi said quietly, rolling his shoulders to release the tension in them. “Think about it, and when you figure it out, tell me.”

“What if the reason is weird?” he asked timidly.

Akaashi chuckled. “Everything about you is weird. That doesn’t phase me anymore.” He reached over to brush his fingers against Bokuto’s forearm. “I’m serious though—promise me you’ll tell me honestly.”

Bokuto relaxed under his cold touch. “I promise.”


	4. Four.

The mountains were picturesquely beautiful as they neared their destination, but they were rapidly becoming overshadowed by the grey clouds looming overhead. Bokuto hadn’t bothered looking at the forecast for today, though it seemed obvious from looking at the sky as it tinted yellow that there was a storm brewing.

Rain began to pelt down as they pulled into a secluded dirt road, going on for what felt like miles before they found the quaint house. It was a bright orange color and shaped much taller than it was wide. Bokuto saw a face peeking out from the third story as they parked in the circular drive.

They didn’t have time to knock at the door before it was pulled open, revealing a tall, frail looking older woman.

“Kiyama-san?”

“Yes, come inside now out of the rain,” she commanded, domineering voice not matching up with her outward appearance.

They stepped inside, and Bokuto was instantly enchanted. It was apparent the whole floor was Kiyama-san’s work station and storage space in one. The entire space was filled with beautiful wooden carvings, the largest of a full-sized bear. There was one carving in particular that stood out to Bokuto, however. It was placed apart from the rest, a piece of wood shaped like a little boy, his expression of joy etched eerily realistically; a wide smile, a scrunched nose and his eyes crinkled nearly shut.

“Wow, I love that one,” Bokuto exclaimed, pointing at the boy.

The woman’s expression softened, her hand stroking the details of the boy’s spiky hair. “It’s my favorite too. He’s my son.”

“I feel like a real-life boy is here with us,” Bokuto complimented.

She let out a sad sigh, dropping her hand. “Unfortunately, it’s the closest I’ll ever have of him anymore. But thank you. You had a question about a piece?”

She directed them to sit at one of her work tables with her, offering them hot drinks when she noted Akaashi’s shiver, the rain managing to soak them for the short time they were outside.

Bokuto pulled Little Hoot out from his hoodie pocket where he had hidden him from the rain. Kiyama’s eyes widened when she recognized the little owl. “That’s… I gave that away a long time ago to an antique shop.”

“Right! That’s where my friend found Little Hoot—ah, that’s his nickname. He was given to me as a gift. But, uh, this will sound unbelievable, but he… started trying to tell me something.” He paused, nervous to see her reaction.

She was quizzical, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but her lack of scoffing encouraged Bokuto to continue. He told her about the weird things that started happening in his apartment soon after Little Hoot moved in, then explained the candle session and their trip to the antique shop.

The carver was silent long after he finished the story, then murmured, “Hold on.” She retreated into a closed door before coming back out shortly later with a couple of candles. Bokuto and Akaashi shared a look.

“My son died many years ago,” she explained, lighting the candles. “He was sick for a long time, but he lasted longer than they told my husband and I he would. There came a point when he couldn’t fight it any longer.” She traced the edge of the owl with a light touch, sadness carved in every wrinkle of her face. “This owl was something I crafted for him when he was small, because he reminded me so much of the animal.” She glanced up to meet Bokuto’s eyes. “You remind me of him quite a bit. Not just your looks, but your energy matches the way his was, even on days he felt the worst.”

Bokuto’s chest felt tight.

“Anyways, he loved this little thing. But my husband and I fought pretty terribly over it when we divorced. I let him have it since I carved the one you were admiring, but a couple years ago he tried returning it to me, telling me he felt guilty every time he looked at it. So, we decided to give it away, since holding onto it was going to just make us both more miserable.”

“So you think there’s a possibility that your son is attached to the owl?” Akaashi lightly inquired.

Kiyama flipped the lights off before rejoining them at the table. “My husband never told me about anything strange happening, but it’s plausible. I’d like to find out.”

“Hiroki? It’s me. Left for yes, right for no,” Kiyama began, staring at Little Hoot where he was placed between the two candles. “Are you here with us?”

Bokuto silently pleaded for her son to reply, to give any kind of a sign that he was with them, reunited with his mother once again.

The left candle flickered, ‘y _es_.’ A shaky sob came from the older woman.

Bokuto almost sighed in relief. She was able to talk to her son, at long last. He was selfishly grateful he didn’t look like a liar as well. He reached under the table for Akaashi’s hand, finding the other already searching. Their fingers linked together without a word.

“Are you here because Bokuto-san’s presence helps you to be here?” Kiyama asked.

‘ _Yes_.’

“Do you have anything you’ve been wanting me to know about?”

‘ _Yes_.’

“Can you tell me?”

‘ _No._ ’

Kiyama frowned, clasping her fingers together on top of the table. “Then what is it?”

Akaashi interjected. “Hiroki? Is it something you can show us instead?”

Neither of the candles reacted. Bokuto was beginning to think the spirit ran out of energy, remembering how the owl had gone silent after too many questions, when they heard a banging noise coming from upstairs.

All of them froze in shock before they lept to follow Kiyama up the stairs. They were met in the dimly lit hallway by a swinging door at the end. “That was my husband’s office.” As they neared the end of the hall, the door stopped swinging, leaving itself wide open for the three to enter.

It was a small space filled with crowded bookshelves and a large desk in the middle of it, dusty but still stacked with papers. A drawer from the desk started banging open and shut, open and shut, over and over. The rain thumped hard against the windowpane outside, the sky a dark grey swirl of storm clouds. Bokuto thought he probably should have been scared, but this moment did not feel threatening.

Kiyama’s breath was ragged as she sat down in the desk chair, ceasing the banging. She searched the drawer until she pulled out an envelope. “It’s my husband’s handwriting. My name is on it,” she said in a shaky breath.

With trembling fingers, she opened it, and she wept.

\---

There was a sense of finality that soothed Bokuto’s soul.

Bokuto and Akaashi never read the letter, but Kiyama had explained when she calmed down that her husband had written her a love letter a little before their son had passed. Apparently, the man she married hadn’t been good with words, but when he wrote, he could express himself in ways she never knew him capable of. There were many things he told her in that letter that he was never able to muster aloud.

And their son wanted her to know.

With the storm still raging outside, Kiyama insisted that they stay the night after eating dinner with the woman. She still appeared to be shaken, but as the evening wore on and she told them stories about outrageous little Hiroki and his stoic father, she soothed.

Bokuto and Akaashi assured Kiyama that they were fine with sharing the guest bedroom together. Bokuto sent a text to his coach explaining as best he could that he would be absent, knowing that even though Coach confirmed that it was okay, he would be paying for it the next practice. Akaashi made arrangements as well, making calls and giving instructions step-by-step, apologizing profusely all the while.

They laid together in the queen-sized bed that felt too small for two large men to share.

“Akaashi?”

“Hmm?”

Bokuto rolled over to face the other man who was already laying on his side. Despite the room being too dark to see Akaashi, he found himself very much wanting to be able to see his familiar face. “Thanks for coming with me to do this. I’m sorry you can’t make it to work tomorrow.”

“It’s worth it. And…you’re worth it.”

They both fell asleep quickly that night, worn by the magnitude of the events that transpired, and if they woke to find themselves tangled together, neither of them said a thing about it.

\---

“And then what?”

It was now Saturday. Kuroo and Kenma had paused their video game when Bokuto began telling them what happened with Little Hoot the previous weekend.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Bokuto sucked on a lollipop that he stole from Kuroo’s not-so-secret candy stash. “That’s it.”

Kuroo threw his hands in the air. “Like, did that lady end up making amends with her husband? Has Little Hoot moved on to heaven now that his purpose here is gone? Are you and Akaashi together?”

Bokuto stared at Kuroo’s rapid fire mouth. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with Kiyama and her ex-husband, but she kept Little Hoot, and she is making me something special for bringing him back to her! It’s going to be a surprise. And Akaashi and I are always together so I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Kuroo face-palmed. Kenma sighed, shaking his head before he took a call that he stepped out of the room for.

Gnawing at his lower lip, Bokuto brought it up finally. This whole week he contemplated what happened in the car up to the mountains, not sure what he was missing that Akaashi wanted him to realize.

“So… About Akaashi.” Kuroo looked up from his defeated position as Bokuto shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the words. “I did something kind of weird and I don’t know why I did it. Akaashi wanted me to think it over.”

This perked Kuroo up. “Spill it.”

“Well, Akaashi had this friend. That he used to have sex with sometimes.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, his fuck-buddy? I’m surprised he told you about it.”

“ _What_?” Bokuto shouted, waving his lollipop in the air dramatically. “You knew about Futakuchi? Why didn’t I know about it?”

“Maybe we’ll get to the root of that tonight,” Kuroo replied mildly. “Keep going.”

“So, I feel pretty weird about it when I find out, which he did not volunteer to tell me, alright. NO, I didn’t walk in on them, don’t look at me like that. But I ended up not thinking anything through and told his sex friend to stop calling because I’m his boyfriend now, even though we aren’t actually dating.”

Kuroo’s eyes bugged out of his head before he threw his head back and laughed. Bokuto frowned. Finally calming down, the messy haired man wiped tears from his eyes and leveled his gaze. “Okay. So you did that. Pretty weird, man. Why do you think you did it?”

Bokuto crossed his arms and stared down at his feet in thought. “Like, maybe I’m being protective over ‘Kaashi because that guy is annoying as fuck and my friend deserves better.”

Kuroo’s face relaxed from a smirk to a serious, sincere frown. “Bokuto. Akaashi does not date and he doesn’t tell you about his hook ups, so you haven’t been forced to deal with this before. But consider Akaashi dating somebody, anybody, whether it’s Futakuchi or a better guy. Do you think you wouldn’t feel badly about it next time, regardless?”

He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach as he pictured his setter’s cold hands linked with another man’s hand, pictured him letting another man hear his laughter when he was truly amused, the one where he would snort and flush from embarrassment, pictured him kissing another man with his pink, full lips, caressing another man’s bare skin…

“I wouldn’t like it,” he grumbled.

His friend grinned. “Oho, a breakthrough. Wouldn’t you say you were not being an overprotective friend, but that it’s more like you’re jealous?”

“I…but he’s my best friend,” Bokuto defended, feeling off-balance even though he was sitting. His head was spinning.

Kuroo leaned forward, stealing the lollipop out of Bokuto’s loose grasp and stuck it in his own mouth. “No, _I’m_ your best friend. He’s something else to you. You always brag about him, he’s the one you want to lean on when you need someone, and you don’t want anyone else to have him.” He pulled the lollipop out with a loud pop. “I know you read shoujo—do you have that pink, bubbly feeling when you’re near him?”

Bokuto was finding it hard to breathe. “No,” he exhaled slowly. “I feel warm and safe and calm.”

“Well, love feels different for everybody.” Kuroo leaned back into the couch with his stolen candy back in his possession while his best friend’s whole reality came crashing down all around him.

_Love_. So that’s what Bokuto felt for Akaashi. It made perfect sense. Since when had he started feeling this way, though? When did his feelings for Akaashi progress from platonic friendship to I-wish-I-could-kiss-you kind of love? How did he only now just realize that the thought of Futakuchi being the one to touch Akaashi so intimately made Bokuto want to scream?

“Oh, shit,” Bokuto said. He abruptly stood up and turned to leave.

“Good luck, dude,” Kuroo said with a grin, but Bokuto could barely hear him, walking past a bemused Kenma on his way out of their flat.

He walked all the way to his own apartment like he was on autopilot. His mind was racing, connecting all the dots he’d missed and cringing at his own stupidity. Bokuto was slow to the joke sometimes, he knew that about himself, about how he could be oblivious about things that other people would be aware of right away, but the fact that he was _in love_ with Akaashi should not just now be news to himself.

Now that he thought about it, entering into his apartment with a robotic turn of the key, it was so glaringly clear that Bokuto wanted to be Akaashi’s and in turn wanted Akaashi to want to be his. He kicked off his shoes at the entryway carelessly, numb.

Akaashi had been his rock since high school. He was the good sense to Bokuto’s idiocy, had never and would never hold him down but simultaneously kept him in check. He was calm and polite, respectful of other people even when they may not have deserved it. He was good under pressure, though he wasn’t invincible, like the time he got sick because he wasn’t taking care of himself well enough when he was trying to meet deadlines, and Bokuto made him broth and forced him to drink water and sat by his bedside, keeping quiet for once because Akaashi needed rest and Bokuto’s voice was loud.

And oh god, Akaashi was so attractive. Bokuto wanted to be able to nuzzle his face into Akaashi’s thick, dark hair, wanted to run his fingers from that long, pale expanse of throat down, down, down, wanted to kiss him everywhere with a hot mouth, wanted those dark blue eyes always on him, wanted to hear Akaashi’s smooth voice break on a moan.

Bokuto listlessly made it into his bathroom, inclined to believe he was staring at a dumbass in the mirror. He released a shaky exhale, taking in his own wild-eyed look, feeling small and ridiculous. Poor Akaashi. He obviously knew that Bokuto had feelings for him; after all, he was the one who nudged Bokuto into figuring it out.

Akaashi probably felt uncomfortable around him, and that’s why he needed it out in the open, so that Bokuto could get a hold of himself and not tell his fuck buddy that he wasn’t single. He was trying to pull Bokuto back from the cliff before the owlish man fell over the edge and into the abyss of being irrevocably in love with him.

Too late. There was no way he could climb out now. He had been stuck for far too long.

Bokuto splashed water onto his face, then pressed a hand to his pounding heart. Akaashi didn’t love him—not yet, anyways. Along with being ignorant of his own feelings came the inability to pursue the other man romantically, but now that Bokuto was at last self-aware…

He grinned at his reflection, wiping his palm dry before reaching into his pocket for his phone. In the search engine, Bokuto typed: ‘how to make a man fall in love with you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Bokuto is just. Too stupid.


	5. Five.

The problem was, a lot of things on the lists he researched online were things Bokuto already did. Make eye contact, ask for their help, laugh at their jokes, give compliments, be a good friend, feed them, be yourself…

There were a few options to try out, though. One thing he could improve on was to try to look attractive for the object of his affection. Bokuto pretty much looked the same every day. He usually wore a hoodie over a t-shirt and styled his hair in the same old spikes as in high school. However, he remembered receiving a few compliments from people who happened to have seen him with his hair down. That seemed to be a good place to start.

On Sunday, he didn’t bother with the gel after he got dressed for the day. He felt incomplete, his bangs flat against his forehead, the longer pieces uncomfortably poking at his eyelashes, but he had to admit the look _did_ give him a whole different vibe—like, maybe a sexier aura.

He whistled as he grabbed his keys from the kitchen countertop and headed over to Akaashi’s.

He knocked, but Akaashi must have been too preoccupied to come to the door. Instead, he called, “Come in!”

Bokuto dropped his jacket onto the hook by the door, toeing off his shoes before he stepped into the living room, where he found Akaashi on his knees in front of his bookshelf, apparently reorganizing it by the way books and movies were scattered all around him in piles.

“Oho, a bit messy today, aren’t we?” Bokuto teased the other man, whose home nearly always looked spotless (unlike other nameless persons). He flopped onto the couch, blowing air through his lips to blow a few strands of hair out his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Akaashi replied without turning around.

“I’m an organized mess, I’ve _told_ you.” He picked up the remote from the coffee table and started to flip through the channels, determined to find something Akaashi would like.

He knew Akaashi was rolling his eyes even if he still had his back turned, stretching to the left to pick up another pile to put back onto the shelf. “Hey, have you talked to Hinata about…” Akaashi turned around to say just as Bokuto decided on an ocean documentary, only to trail off.

Bokuto met Akaashi’s stunned graze, grinning. “Talked to Hinata about what?”

Akaashi abandoned his last train of thought, clearing his throat after a second of silence. “Um. You… Something… Your hair.” Usually Akaashi spoke much more eloquently.

“Oh, yeah,” he said flippantly, as if he hadn’t put much thought into it, “I ran out of gel. Why? Does it look bad?”

Akaashi blinked. “N-no! It looks…good. You look good. Like that.”

Smugly, Bokuto counted it as a solid win to his favor. He decided he would wear it down more often when he wasn’t exercising, side-eyeing the way Akaashi whipped around to the bookcase, seemingly shoving piles in no systematic order.

(Akaashi had a thing for Bokuto wearing his hair unspiked. The few times he was blessed to witness it were fleeting, like at training camps after a long day of sweating when they all took showers and Bokuto went to bed with it flat, or that time it absolutely poured all of a sudden and Bokuto’s resistant gel finally gave way, much to the captain’s dismay.

There was just something about it. Akaashi thought Bokuto was an attractive man in general, liked the way his smile was so wide it showed off all of his straight white teeth, liked the clean cut of his square jaw, liked the way he reached a muscled arm up to run his fingers through spiked hair; all of it enticed Akaashi, but there was no denying Bokuto’s atmosphere totally changed with no gel.

He looked more _sensual_ , perhaps more mysterious with the way his bangs fell, his typically round eyes sharper, the pale strands highlighting the golden color which impassioned his already intense stare.

So, when Akaashi turned around from the bookshelf and was faced with Bokuto casually sitting on his couch with gorgeously gel-free hair, looking so soft and feathery to the touch, he blanked out. Later, he couldn’t even remember what words came stuttering from his mouth, but he was sure they were embarrassing. He didn’t break out of his trance until Bokuto reminded Akaashi that he was still himself, _an obnoxious idiot_ , when he curiously commented, “Hey, ‘Kaashi, wouldn’t it be cool if whales had legs, ‘cause it would be like a real-life Godzilla movie if they came ashore,” and left Akaashi dumbfounded.)

\---

The next note Bokuto decided to work on was to listen to Akaashi more instead of rambling like he always did. He didn’t think it went as well as his hairstyle change.

The ratio of words spoken in conversations between Bokuto and Akaashi was typically about 1:4, or, Bokuto hogged about seventy-five percent while Akaashi was left with the rest.

Bokuto honestly never meant to blather for minutes on end, but it was natural for him, especially when concerning Akaashi, because rambling was simply not something he did, preferring to pick and choose what he said aloud. Akaashi treated words preciously, like diamonds, while Bokuto burnt through them like they were coal for fire. Bokuto really liked that about Akaashi. He never made Bokuto feel like he was annoying him, like how others sometimes did, but would simply hum in acknowledgement or agreement, or give short, concise answers that always sounded thoughtful. He considered what Bokuto said, even when it was outrageous and both of them knew it.

It was more difficult of a task that Bokuto initially expected. The whole dynamic was off. Bokuto’s mouth kept opening to speak, but he would catch himself just in time, leaving Akaashi staring at him, puzzled, while they played the Mario Kart game that Kenma had brought over to Bokuto’s. The others were looking at him weirdly, too, but nobody had brought it up yet.

“I’m going to fucking lose it if Akaashi uses another bullet to get to first place— _why_ does he keep getting them!” Kuroo yelled in frustration, leaning forward and rocking with the Wii controller as if that were going to help him drive better.

Bokuto was about to speak up in his defense, then remembered that sometimes Akaashi liked to speak for himself. Bokuto didn’t always have to interject before the other could say something, and so this time, while he sat on the end of the couch watching Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Hinata race, he waited.

There was an awkward pause, like they were all expecting Bokuto’s loud mouth to open, and when nothing came, Akaashi tore his gaze from the screen, looking over at him with his brows drawn together. As soon as his head turned, his kart promptly fell off the road, leaving him several places behind once again.

“Ha!” Kuroo shouted, noticing from his spot in fourth place. He probably would be doing better if he weren’t so focused on the others’ boxes on the screen.

Kenma was happily taking the lead again, while Hinata was making unintelligible noises as he struggled to take fifth place from Bowser, sticking his tongue out in the process.

Akaashi looked back to the TV, although he didn’t receive another freebie bullet before Kenma finished off the last lap in first place as the gamer had the previous three rounds they played tonight.

Eventually, they got tired of getting their asses handed to them by untouchable Kenma, and instead whined for Bokuto to cook for them. He pretended to be inconvenienced, although he did truly enjoy showing off his skills, and went into the kitchen to see what was in the fridge.

After confirming salmon and rice was okay with the group, Akaashi volunteered to help and returned with Bokuto to the kitchen. Akaashi watched the athlete season the fish after Akaashi quickly prepared the rice, uncharacteristically quiet, studying him. Bokuto was practically vibrating with all his pent-up energy, only now realizing about himself that _talking_ was one of his biggest outlets.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi started.

Bokuto looked over at the other with a grin, putting the pan in the oven. He turned to face Akaashi, trying to show him that he held Bokuto’s full attention. “Yeah, Akaashi?”

“Are you okay? You’re not acting like you’re in one of your moods, but you still seem off…”

Bokuto took in Akaashi’s expression. The man’s eyes were gentle, his brows furrowed, his mouth downturn in concern. He leaned against the counter, his posture easy to invite Bokuto to feel open to expressing himself.

“I’m perfectly fine!” Bokuto quickly reassured him once he realized that he had made Akaashi worry about him. “Just—Don’t you have things to say?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened dramatically, and his fingers clutched the counter. His gaze darted away from Bokuto’s own, finding their way to the tile floor underneath them. “What do you mean?”

Bokuto picked a stray strand of thread off his hoodie. “I mean, like, you don’t have to be quiet all the time because of me. You can tell me to shut up.”

Akaashi glanced up, startled. “Why would I tell you that?”

“I can be quiet if you have things you would like to say,” Bokuto said by way of explaining, meeting Akaashi’s eyes with eagerness. He couldn’t exactly tell Akaashi that he was attempting to sway Akaashi’s feelings to him by giving Akaashi room to speak and listen to him, rather the other way around. “Like, if you want to tease Kuroo for being a sore loser, or if you want to tell me about your day, or if you want to nag at me, all without me interrupting, I want you to know you can do that.”

“Um… Okay,” Akaashi said, still holding Bokuto’s stare. Bokuto waited. Akaashi shifted, looking away before meeting Bokuto’s unwavering gaze again. “I don’t have much to say right now,” he offered.

Disappointed but accepting of the fact that Akaashi didn’t have much on his mind that he wanted to share currently, he gave the other a bright smile before he peeked into the oven to see how the salmon was looking.

(Akaashi thought Bokuto was acting so strangely. He had been so quiet, passing over complaints, teasing remarks, and general comments that he would normally quickly jump to blurt out. It was particularly weird that Bokuto wasn’t leaping to compete with Kuroo and Hinata, as he never failed to do when in the other two’s presence. Especially Kuroo’s.

Bokuto didn’t even act like he was in one of his dejected moods. This was different. He didn’t seem sad or dismayed, exactly, he was being much too quiet for that. It was like he was worried about something, and it was probably something serious if it was enough for easygoing Bokuto to act like this.

His behavior was concerning Akaashi, and so, he followed him into the kitchen and tried to think of a way to subtly prod Bokuto to speak up. He ended up being direct as he usually was, deciding to bring up his observations.

Akaashi almost had a heart attack when he, for a moment, thought Bokuto was asking him to admit to his feelings. Those intense eyes on him, golden and watchful, searing him from the inside out. And then he was just simply asking if Akaashi wanted to voice any everyday thoughts, which was weird in itself because he thought that he and Bokuto had an understanding about that already. If Akaashi wanted to say something, he had his ways of quieting Bokuto. He was a pretty good listener after all, at least when it came to Akaashi.)

\---

Next up, Bokuto essentially decided to try to seduce Akaashi. The note he made from the articles he read was ‘touch him to show physical interest,’ but his main objective was for Akaashi to _want_ him. He was pretty nervous about this one, because Bokuto knew himself. He was not subtle. If he was going to seduce Akaashi, there was no way Akaashi wasn’t going to know what Bokuto was intentionally doing.

Bokuto went over to Akaashi’s directly after his practice Saturday, then insisted that he needed to take a shower immediately after entering Akaashi’s apartment, interrupting his nap.

Bokuto quickly took his shower, rubbing Akaashi’s shampoo and conditioner into his hair and washing all the sweat away with Akaashi’s body wash, emboldened by the fact that he smelled like the other man now. He tingled all the way to his fingers and toes as he crept out of the bathroom in nothing but his low-hanging sweatpants, peeking into Akaashi’s bedroom. He had fallen back asleep while waiting for Bokuto to get out, stretched out on his back with his arm thrown over his head. Cute.

“Akaashi?” he called softly from the end of the other man’s bed. Luckily, Akaashi was only dozing, his eyes fluttering open at the sound of Bokuto’s voice. He froze after registering Bokuto standing shirtless at the end of his bed, one hand on his hip, the other stuffed into his pocket (the pressure also dragged the band on his left hip even lower).

“Why,” Akaashi managed to croak, “are you nearly naked?”

“I’m not naked! It was a really _hot_ shower, and I’m not cooled down yet,” Bokuto replied, fanning his face with his right hand, smirking.

Akaashi’s upper teeth sunk into his bottom lip, seeming to struggle to keep his gaze from wandering below Bokuto’s face.

Bokuto sighed dramatically before he flopped into the empty space next to Akaashi, causing the mattress to squeak as he adjusted himself into a comfortable position. “Your bed is noisy,” he noted. It wasn’t the first time Bokuto had helped himself to Akaashi’s comfortable bed, but it felt different now that Bokuto was conscious of what it could imply.

“Weren’t you going to ask the others if they wanted to go drinking?” Akaashi asked after clearing his throat, ignoring the comment.

“Hmm,” Bokuto pretended to consider, tapping his chin. “I’m pretty worn out from practice today.” He rolled closer to Akaashi, before he boldly rested his head on Akaashi’s solid shoulder, curling close and throwing his bare arm across Akaashi’s chest.

Akaashi’s breath hitched. Slowly, the arm that had been resting above his head curled around Bokuto’s, holding him. Bokuto flushed unexpectedly, nuzzling his face into Akaashi’s neck. He inhaled his scent. Sure, he may have used Akaashi’s products, but there was a unique underlying smell that was uniquely _Akaashi_.

“You smell like my shampoo,” Akaashi mumbled into his hair, which was without gel.

“Yeah, I smell like you now.” His lips dragged across the hollow of Akaashi’s throat as he spoke.

Akaashi’s muscles tensed, and his free hand came up to reflexively run his fingers through his own hair. Bokuto caught his hand on its way back down, intertwining their fingers together. Akaashi let him bring their joined hands down to rest on his chest, and Bokuto began to stroke his thumb over Akaashi’s smooth skin.

Akaashi remained silent, though his breath was coming too unevenly for him to have been comfortable.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Bokuto said sullenly, pulling their fingers apart before pressing their palms together, noting for the hundredth time that Akaashi’s fingers were longer than his own, and slimmer. “Pretty hands,” he voiced aloud.

“B-Bokuto,” Akaashi protested breathlessly. He buried his face into Bokuto’s hair, as if he were doing his best to hide when literally pressed against Bokuto.

Soooo cute. Bokuto grinned into his neck, then pulled away to look at Akaashi, who had already covered his face with his hands as soon as his arms were free.

Bokuto, riding a high of wickedness, pushed himself up to straddle Akaashi’s thighs, tugging gently at Akaashi’s wrists. The man didn’t budge. “Akashiiii,” he begged, “why are you hiding?”

It took him a moment to realize Akaashi hadn’t intaken any breath in awhile. He waited a few more seconds before he soothingly ordered, “Hey, breathe, Akaashi.”

As if just now realizing he wasn’t functioning, Akaashi’s gulped in air. Bokuto ran gentle fingers up and down Akaashi’s arms over his long-sleeved shirt, encouraging, “Yep, there you go.”

“Bokuto, you have to get off me.” Akaashi reluctantly let Bokuto pry his hands from his face, revealing a red Akaashi who was studiously avoiding looking at Bokuto. “Also, _put on some damn clothes_.”

Feeling like he had gotten even better reactions than he had set out for, Bokuto took this as another win, and mercifully removed himself from Akaashi’s lap—but not before he plopped a sweet kiss on Akaashi’s hot cheek, pitching his voice low to say, “Wow, you’re red. I hope you’re not getting sick, because I already texted Kuroo and the others to meet us at eight.”

(Akaashi accepted that Bokuto was going to be the death of him. What had gotten into him? It was like he was doing all this on purpose.

Bokuto’s athletic, muscular body was like a work of art. His thick biceps, his strong, veined forearms, the six-pack, the bulge of his shoulders—his mouth would literally water when he thought about it. He assumed he was dreaming when he found Bokuto standing there at the end of his bed in all of his muscled glory, smirking down at him, and tried not to let himself drool when his eyeline met Bokuto’s hipbones.

And then! Bokuto had crawled into bed with him, making innuendos like he was flirting with him (which he definitely wasn’t, at least not intentionally, because Bokuto was an idiot who couldn’t catch on to a hint). He cuddled with him, and held hands with him, and climbed on top of him, his weight heavy, but so very welcoming.

Bokuto’s hair had been so beautifully soft, and Akaashi loved the swell of muscle under his palm, and loved that Bokuto smelled like him, and he most of all loved that it felt like Bokuto belonged there in his bed.

He felt so thirsty he didn’t think he could ever chug enough water to melt the desert in his throat away.)

\---

The next, and last, thing on Bokuto’s list was the most difficult. He wondered if he could even go through with it. He was so used to seeing Akaashi nearly every day, or at least in communication through text, that his heart sunk when he read the words he’d noted: ‘give him space.’

His fingers itched to pick up his phone and text Akaashi seemingly every few minutes. He wanted to tell him about the cute ginger cat that he spotted scampering under his car, about the bicycler that almost went flying over her handlebars, about Hinata’s growing crush on Kageyama from the antique store.

He began after Tuesday, after Akaashi went with Bokuto to his doctor’s appointment because he hated the long wait before the doctor finally called him back. Akaashi would have been alarmed if he suddenly didn’t want him to go. He went three days refusing to initiate contact with Akaashi, and when he responded to Akaashi, he kept his answers short and vague. He avoided any invitations to hang out. It took three days before he needed to tell someone, and to hope that someone would convince him to give up on this self-inflicted torture.

“Kuroo,” he bemoaned when he flopped down face first onto the couch at Kuroo and Kenma’s flat.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo sighed, finishing up watering the plants sitting under the window.

His reply was muffled by the cushion.

“I didn’t hear a word you said, dumbass.”

Bokuto sat up reluctantly, pulling his knees up to his chest. Kuroo sat down on the other side, arms splayed over the back of the couch as he side-eyed Bokuto.

“I’m ignoring ‘Kaashi and I hate it.”

Kuroo blinked at him. “You’re doing _what?_ Why?”

Kenma walked into the living room from the kitchen just then, his nose wrinkled in confusion. “Bokuto. Why have I received a message from Akaashi asking if I knew if there was something wrong with you?”

Bokuto’s heart felt like it was prickled with the needles from Kuroo’s cacti. He broke down and told them everything—the conclusion he had come to about needing to sway Akaashi’s feelings, the articles he found, the list he made, and everything he had carried out already. “I’m ‘giving him space’ but I feel like I’m about to cry every time I want to tell him something and I can’t,” he whined petulantly.

The couple were staring at him in stunned belief and some disgust.

“You fucking idiot!” Kuroo shouted at last, Bokuto flinching at the volume and the level of anger.

“I’ve never met someone so stupid,” Kenma agreed.

Kuroo yanked at his hair, laughing a little manically. Bokuto was starting to feel some fear.

“I—You need to talk to him as soon as possible and just fucking tell him how you feel. I thought you knew what you had to do and were just biding for a perfect time, not that you…not that you thought you needed to…” Kuroo seemed to be at a loss for words, which was a rarity for the sly man.

“Okay,” Bokuto said quietly, staring down at his hands feeling like he well and truly fucked things up again. “Just—Kenma, don’t tell him anything yet, please?”

Kenma clutched his phone tight in his hand before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t yet, but if you don’t do something about this soon…” He threatened Bokuto by waving his phone in the air purposely.

“Swear to me you’re going to talk to him tomorrow,” Kuroo said seriously, no trace of a smirk. “You two really need to sort out the misunderstandings.”

Bokuto buried his face in his hands. “Yeah. I swear.” Akaashi was going to hate him.

The door of the locker room slammed with a startling crack against the wall due to the sheer amount of force it was shoved open with, freezing the half-dressed volleyball team in their tracks after their Saturday practice.

It turned out that Bokuto wasn’t gong to have to initiate contact with Akaashi to meet up and talk things out, because Akaashi had just stormed into the locker room the day after Bokuto decided to confess with the most enraged expression Bokuto had ever witnessed on Akaashi’s normally zen face.

“What did you do?” Hinata questioned in a horrified whisper, backing away from his spot next Bokuto.

Bokuto was too dumbfounded to speak, staring with dread as Akaashi stalked straight towards him, his livid gaze locking Bokuto in place like he was cornered prey. This was going to be his end, killed by the most beautiful man alive. There were worse ways to go, really, he couldn’t complain too much.

Akaashi met him where he had frozen in front of his locker with half of his hoodie on, and Bokuto’s eyes squeezed shut when he saw Akaashi’s arms raise, thinking maybe Akaashi had finally snapped and was going to hit him. Akaashi’s fingers gripped the strings of his hoodie, and he stopped, nose to nose with Bokuto, so close he could feel his ragged breath against his face.

“You’re mad,” Bokuto stated intelligently.

It was eerily silent in the room, the others attempting to look away from the train wreck but finding it impossible, and Akaashi let out a short, crazed laugh. “I’m _mad?_ No, I’m not _mad_ , Bokuto, I’m really fucking _pissed_ ,” Akaashi hissed.

“At me?”

Akaashi’s eyes rolled so far back Bokuto wondered if they might get stuck. “Yes, I’m pissed at you! You were acting so weird recently, doing shit that you wouldn’t normally do, making me thinking…” Akaashi’s eyes flashed before he continued. “And then you completely avoid me for four days, like I’m the one who did something wrong! And if I did, you won’t tell me.” His voice cracked on the last sentence.

When was the last time Akaashi had raised his voice about something? He can’t even remember if there’s ever been such an occasion.

Sakusa suddenly cleared his throat, glaring at them for the spectacle they were making in the locker room. Atsumu whipped his head to frown at him, clearly enjoying this moment. Hinata was wringing his hands together like he wanted to say something to stop the madness, but still appeared to be too frightened of Akaashi to say something. Hell, Bokuto was frightened of Akaashi right now, too, he couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, yeah. I have some explaining to do. Just—not here,” Bokuto said, taking a cautious step back.

Akaashi let him, and he adjusted his hoodie so that it sat right. Avoiding looking at anybody, Bokuto dipped to grab his bag, hearing Hinata whisper under his breath, “Good luck, please don’t die.”

Akaashi silently followed him out the building, into the parking lot, into Bokuto’s car, on the short drive to Bokuto’s apartment, up the steps. There, Bokuto spotted a package leaning against his door, and he picked it up, momentarily distracted to see it was from Kiyama. She must have sent her gift.

“Can we open this first?” Bokuto asked hesitantly, showing Akaashi the package as they stepped inside.

The other man nodded, his expression still hard. Bokuto led him to the dining table, carefully tearing off the blue wrapping paper. It was wrapped around a cardboard box, which he cut into with a pair of scissors, finally revealing the contents. Inside was an envelope and a wooden carving of two hands intertwined.

“Read it,” Akaashi directed, and Bokuto opened it to read the letter Kiyama and written them aloud.

_“‘I cannot begin to describe how grateful I am for what you both have given me. I have discovered a new sense of peace now that Hiroki brought my husband and I back together. If you two hadn’t brought my son’s soul back to me, I’d never have that one last moment with him, even though he seems to have moved on after that night, which I am thankful for. Hiroki is in a better place, wholly now, at last. And my husband is back by my side, though we have much to work on. I’m blessed we can still try._

_I carved this with you two in mind. Just from our short encounter, I can see that you fit each other perfectly, just like these hands do. They’re molded into one, never to part, and I wish that for you, Bokuto and Akaashi. I don’t mean to overstep, but the love and support you give each other is something precious to hold onto. I hope to carry that same sentiment into my revisited marriage._

_Best of wishes,_

_Kiyama”_

Bokuto swallowed hard, staring at the piece of paper. He slowly put it on the table, admiring the joined hands, thinking about what Kiyama had seen in them and how perfectly this carving represented it.

“She saw what I couldn’t, at the time,” Bokuto finally said, watching Akaashi study the carving with awe. Akaashi looked up at him, then, startled from his trail of thoughts. “I didn’t realize what I was feeling, why I was acting the way I did, until Kuroo got it into my head—I’ve been in love with you. For how long, I don’t know.”

He shuffled, taking a deep breath. Akaashi was staring at him in shock, his cheeks a pretty pink. “I’ve been acting like an idiot, I know. I just really wanted to make you see me the way I’ve been seeing you. And the way I see you—you’re beautiful, and loyal, and kind, and you have the patience of a saint. I’d be so lost without you. After I realized my feelings for you, I might have, well, looked up on the internet how to get you to love me back. I didn’t mean to ignore you…I swear I didn’t have bad intentions. I just thought that giving you space might make you realize you need me too.”

Bokuto clasped his hands together in front of him, head slightly bowed. He would grovel if it would make Akaashi forgive him.

“So, you’ve been acting so weird because you’ve been trying to get me to love you back, by following advice from the internet?” Akaashi asked in disbelief, face carefully blank.

“That about sums it up,” Bokuto said, trying to focus on keeping his breathing even, though he wanted to race out the door and never look back, sure that this was the end of his friendship with Akaashi. Nobody wanted to be friends with somebody who looked at them with the eyes of a lover.

“Y-you’re—” Akaashi began to sputter. “You’re so goddamn stupid sometimes.”

“So I’ve heard a lot lately,” Bokuto muttered, cringing, avoiding Akaashi’s gaze.

“Bokuto, look at me,” Akaashi demanded, and when grudgingly met his eyes, he found the gunmetal blue filled with unshed tears. His heart skipped a beat, but he couldn’t reach out like he wanted to. “All that has never been necessary because I’m already in love with you. Literally everybody else has seen it except you, because you’re completely oblivious, even now. I could have kissed you and you would have _still_ wrote it off as a joke.”

Bokuto’s head was spinning. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yes, I’ve been in love with you since high school, idiot. I’m so angry with you. I told you to check back in with me when you figured it out.”

Bokuto’s breath left him in a gust, and he stepped forward, wiping away a tear on Akaashi’s cheek that had managed to escape. His forehead tilted downwards to meet Akaashi’s, then pulled him in for an embrace. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was late.”

Akaashi tucked his wet face into Bokuto’s neck, his arms tightening around him. “You better tell me everything from now on.”

“Always,” Bokuto agreed.

(Really, the only thing Akaashi could say was that he should never have fallen in love with such a simpleminded man.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit stuff comin' right up.


	6. Six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took me longer than I wanted it to, but yay, it's finished! :)

Bokuto quickly learned a lot of things about Akaashi that he never knew prior to their romantic relationship.

Bokuto first discovered that Akaashi loved to cuddle. The part that was most surpirsing, though, was that Akaashi wanted to be the big spoon. He liked to curl around Bokuto, his face buried into the silver and white strands, or Bokuto to lay on his chest, curling up his big body. Bokuto enjoyed holding Akaashi too, feeling a pleasant protective warmth whenever he found Akaashi in his arms, but he was mostly content to do whatever Akaashi wanted.

Another discovery—Akaashi flushed a distinct red whenever Bokuto complimented him in any way that could be perceived as flirty. ‘ _You’re the hottest man I’ve ever met, honestly, ‘Kaashi,_ ’ ‘ _Those jeans look really good on you, just look at your ass_ ,’ ‘ _You’re the best at holding me when we cuddle_ ,’ all rendering the younger man crimson.

Bokuto would say things that weren’t necessarily amorous, though, and Akaashi would still blush, only pink instead of red. These were the kinds of things Bokuto had always said about Akaashi before they confessed, like, ‘ _If I could pick one person to be stuck on a deserted island with, it would be ‘Kaashi_ ’, and, ‘ _Akaashi is the coolest person ever_ ,’ or, ‘ _Akaashi! You smiled! Do that again_.’ It left Bokuto wondering if he had been turning pink this whole time, Bokuto only now noticing because he was looking for it, or if it really was a brand new reaction. If it was an old habit, Bokuto was truly sad to have missed all those rosy-cheeked moments. Akaashi was beautiful at all times, but a flustered Akaashi was a special treat.

Bokuto learned that Akaashi’s kisses were soft and sweet, his mouth tender and gentle even when his slick, deft tongue was involved. At least at first. Typically, things would heat up, and then the honeyed caresses of his lips turned unforgiving with sharp nips of teeth and open-mouthed panting. Bokuto absolutely could not decide which version he liked best. He loved whatever Akaashi gave him.

Contrary to his outward persona, Bokuto was not an aggressive pursuer as a lover. He left it up to Akaashi to initiate most of their physical interactions. He always let it run that way with his romantic partners (though, the last _real_ relationship he had been in was with a very nice girl when he was twenty and lonely). Bokuto was aware that he was overly enthusiastic and a little bit stupid, and that combination of qualities secretly terrified him when it came to romance. How was he to know the boundaries of another when he couldn’t pick up on them? How was he to know when to stop, even when he was oblivious to their unease in his own excitement?

Akaashi didn’t seem to mind, and Bokuto didn’t have anything to complain about because Akaashi seemed to want Bokuto badly enough to put up with Bokuto’s passiveness. They both got what they wanted in the end.

\---

A few weeks after they officially began dating, Akaashi asked for some help to paint his apartment. Bokuto, Kuroo, and Sugawara were the only ones available to help. Hinata was off seeing Kageyama, and Kenma was busy with work.

Akaashi was definitely taking a risk in letting Bokuto help out with painting. There was a distinct possibility he would mess something up, especially since he hadn’t done this before. And then if you added in Kuroo as a component, his slick provocation like gasoline to fire, that increased the chances even more.

Bokuto was determined not to ruin anything. The four of them had each taken a wall of Akaashi’s living room, some upbeat music playing from a speaker, catching up as they worked their brushes and rollers. Bokuto was not making the same amount of progress as the others as a result of his carefully light strokes of sage green. He was only on the upper left corner of his wall, while the others had reached the middles or further of their own.

“Bokuto’s been awfully quiet,” he heard Sugawara say to the others, as if he weren’t in the same room. Which to be fair, it felt that way since he had contributed very little to the conversation since they had began painting.

“I think he’s worried about messing this up,” Akaashi explained.

“He’s so concentrated on that wall that he keeps forgetting he needs to breathe,” Kuroo said. “Maybe if his boyfriend distracted him for a bit, he’d relax.”

Bokuto really did want to turn around and agree to let Akaashi ‘distract’ him, but his brush was hovering too close for comfort to the ceiling to allow himself to break away, even with the tape.

“Huh? Boyfriend?” Sugawara gasped. “Bokuto, you’re dating someone? But I thought…”

“It’s me,” Akaashi said.

This would be the perfect time for Bokuto to whip around and brag about his new relationship, but the _wall_. He’s got just the right amount of paint on his brush, and the top of the wall is looking nice as he diligently worked in short, confident strokes.

“Finally! Congratulations, you two,” Sugawara cheerfully exclaimed.

Bokuto’s smile was pretty dopey, he was sure, was about to take a break just to happily explain the whole story to Suga, when Kuroo said in a crookedly innocent tone, “For two people who have pined for each for so long, they’re not really that eager to bone.”

Bokuto’s brush went flying out of control as he hurried to turn around, shouting, “Kuroo!” He stumbled off the box he had been standing on to reach. He turned around to find Kuroo smirking gleefully, Sugawara amused, and Akaashi exasperated.

“Oh, so I was right. I just took a shot in the dark.”

“Don’t talk about our sex life! I don’t ask about you and Kenma,” Bokuto reprimanded, crossing his arms.

“Well, your sex life is apparently nonexistent, so…”

Bokuto scowled darkly. “And it’s none of your business.” He was actually a little angry now. That was private information. Akaashi would never want the details of their intimacy shared, even if it was Kuroo asking.

Kuroo held up his hands in surrender, catching on to the downward swing of Bokuto’s mood. “My bad, dude. I didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

Before Bokuto could reply, Akaashi crossed the room toward the athlete. “Moving on from that… Look, you painted my ceiling.” His slender fingers wrapped around Bokuto’s bare forearm, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, soothing Bokuto’s rare temper. They all looked up at the swipe of green against the white ceiling.

Bokuto swore. “I’m sorry. I really tried not to screw up.” His shoulders hunched forward, and he stared down at his feet, disheartened.

“It’s okay. I bought some white paint just in case,” Akaashi assured him.

“Because you knew I would do this,” Bokuto disparaged, withdrawing from the other man’s touch, his fingers linking together at the back of his head as he stared up at the offensive spot.

He always found a way to mess things up, accident or not.

Akaashi was silent as he contemplated what words would best appease Bokuto, the other two awkwardly quick to resume painting. Kuroo seemed to want to say something to make it better, but Akaashi was there, and Akaashi was the best at dealing with Bokuto in one of his moods.

“Bokuto,” he said finally, “why don’t you come with me to buy some more sage paint for the walls? I underestimated how much we would need.”

“Okay,” he agreed without enthusiasm, and they grabbed their jackets and shoes to leave.

“We’ll be back soon,” Akaashi called. They left Kuroo and Sugawara there in Akaashi’s apartment, and while going down the steps, the slender man suggested, “How about we walk instead of drive? The store isn’t too far.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Akaashi reached out and interlocked his cold hand with Bokuto’s warm one under the dying sun. The autumn day was particularly dreary, and without the sparse comfort of the warm rays of daylight, it was bitterly chilly out. Bokuto wanted to pull the other man closer, knowing how much Akaashi despised being cold, but he was too far down in his self-loathing pit.

They walked in silence for a short while until Akaashi asked in his most placid tone of voice, always reserved for Moody Bokuto, “Why do you treat everyone you’re romantically interested in like they’re made of glass?” Bokuto whipped his head around, wide-eyed. “I know nearly everything there is to know about you, but I haven’t been able to understand that behavior. It’s so contrary to your nature.”

Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s not… It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” he said simply, squeezing his fingers once.

Bokuto felt himself start to sweat despite the biting chill that had at last penetrated through his barrier of heat. He glanced nervously at Akaashi, finding dark eyes lightened by golden light watching him carefully. Akaashi’s lips curled up in a gentle smile, and Bokuto felt the air leave his chest all at once. His muscles relaxed under Akaashi’s reserved tenderness, and Bokuto lessened the gap between them, so close their shoulders brushed, sharing his body heat.

“You know how I am,” Bokuto began, looking away from Akaashi and down at the pavement, scuffing his sneaker. “I’m a lot, and I know it. There’s been times when I’ve been with someone and it takes me a while to realize I’m making them uncomfortable. Like, if they don’t want to kiss in public, and they never told me that, and I keep doing it not knowing they never were okay with that. Or when I try to introduce them to my friends, and they don’t think we’re at the point where they’re ready for that, except I already arranged for them to meet without knowing it. That’s why I’m especially careful when it comes to the physical stuff, because it really scares me that I might go too far if I can’t even catch on when it comes to the other parts.” He let out a sigh, feeling lighter now that he voiced his concerns to someone.

Akaashi’s thumb rubbed in a soothing circle. “Tell me this. Who on this earth knows you best?”

“You,” Bokuto answered immediately. “Then Kuroo. Then my mom. Then—”

“And who do you think knows _me_ best?”

Bokuto frowned in thought while Akaashi eyed him expectantly, totally relaxed like everything Bokuto confessed hadn’t phased him in the least bit. “Me?”

“Don’t say it like a question. You know me best, and that’s a statement, a fact. What happens when you do something ridiculous? What do I do?”

“You tell me to stop.”

“And you always listen so well,” Akaashi agreed.

Bokuto blinked. “But you never get mad at me. That’s how I know when I mess up.” He winced. “Well, except for the locker room incident,” he whispered, remembering the expression on Akaashi’s face.

“That’s because you weren’t communicating. You were too busy pointlessly courting me, when you could have just told me how you felt, and the locker room incident never would have happened. I even told you to tell me once you realized,” Akaashi reprimanded, voice still level. He raised their hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Bokuto’s hand, his soft lips catching the roughness of Bokuto’s knuckles. “But I don’t have to get angry with you for you to understand me, that’s the thing. Considering how well we know each other, I’m not the least bit worried. As long as we’re communicating.”

Bokuto straightened his shoulders at last, perking up some. “So you’re promising me that if I do or say something you don’t like, you’ll make sure I know it, right?”

“Just like always,” Akaashi nodded. “You already proved earlier that we’re off to a good start because of how well we know each other.”

“I did?”

“You’re familiar with my boundaries. You knew I wouldn’t be comfortable with Kuroo talking about our sex life. It wasn’t as big of a deal just because it’s Kuroo and Sugawara, but I appreciate that you understand that about me.”

Bokuto smiled, a real one, pleased. “No problem! I swear I’ll communicate, as long as you do too.” His chest felt warm. “And the new stuff we haven’t discovered about each other yet, like kissing and touching—I’m excited to learn with you.”

Akaashi’s brows raised. “The kissing is something we’ve already explored, though. Do we need to learn new boundaries for that?”

Bokuto’s grin turned into something mischievous, a roguish twinkle in his eye that looked like it would belong on Kuroo’s features instead. “I wouldn’t say we’ve _completely_ explored that area.” He looked around, finding the street empty, and knew that this would be okay.

He halted their stride, maintaining direct eye contact with Akaashi as he firmly drew the younger man a step closer by their joined hands, ending up with them chest to chest. His blood buzzed when he noticed Akaashi’s breath catch, those deep blue eyes looking up at him under thick lashes somewhat eagerly. Bokuto’s tongue dipped to lick at his lower lip, watched Akaashi’s attention flicker down to the motion, then up again, his pupils blown, his own mouth parting unconsciously.

Then Bokuto leaned in, pressing his lips against Akaashi’s. He moved gently, chastely, savoring the smooth glide, but soon found the shorter man impatient to deepen the kiss. Akaashi nibbled at Bokuto’s lip, attempting to coax him open. But he didn’t want that, not this time. He didn’t want to allow Akaashi to be in control right now. He wanted to show him something a little different.

Bokuto pulled back almost teasingly, and Akaashi tried to follow, making a small, frustrated noise when he was denied access to Bokuto’s mouth. He made another attempt, and Bokuto turned so that Akaashi only met the corner of his mouth. When Akaashi at last resigned himself, Bokuto leaned back in, his lips gentle as he parted Akaashi’s. The hand that wasn’t holding Akaashi’s drew up to cup his jaw, his pointer finger stroking the curve of his ear, invoking a full-body shiver.

Akaashi sighed happily, and Bokuto seized the moment, his tongue darting to swipe across Akaashi’s bottom lip. The man’s mouth fell open wider, and Bokuto’s licked inside, his tongue asserting dominance against Akaashi’s.

Akaashi released a low moan, his free hand raising to run up and down Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto stepped impossibly closer, his leg slotting between Akaashi’s, and he nipped hard at Akaashi’s bottom lip before sucking it between his own to soothe the pain. Akaashi’s breath stuttered out. Bokuto finally released his lip with a wet _pop_ , and he pressed one last gentle kiss to Akaashi’s mouth before pulling back with a satisfied grin.

Bokuto was enchanted by the sight. Akaashi’s cheeks and ears were dusted pink, his mouth red and parted as he panted for air. His eyes at last fluttered open, and Bokuto’s heart seized when he realized how muddled he had left Akaashi.

“Oh,” Akaashi breathed, blinking the glaze out of his eyes. “I see.”

“So, I take it this is something you’re okay with?” Bokuto asked teasingly, as if his own heart weren’t pounding.

Akaashi’s head jerked in a firm nod. “I’m very okay with this.”

\---

“Hey, is that my sweater?” Bokuto stared at Akaashi’s reflection in the mirror beside him. Akaashi was brushing his teeth (“Yes, Bokuto, I’m going to brush my teeth for the second time within the hour, garlic is clinging to every surface of my mouth”) while Bokuto carefully gelled his hair.

Akaashi darted wide eyes, almost guilty, to meet Bokuto’s reflection, then spit a mouthful of toothpaste out into the sink. “Well, yes. I think this color goes nicely with my outfit.” He avoided making eye contact again, adjusting the slightly overlarge deep blue sweater, matching well with his ripped black jeans and the bomber jacket he was most likely going to be sporting. “Should I wear the white sneakers or black boots?” It was sort of pointless to have this discussion, since they would be changing as soon as they arrived at their destination, but he allowed Akaashi to weave his cover story.

Bokuto leaned down to wash the gel off his hands and comb, sneaking another look at Akaashi. He looked really good in Bokuto’s clothing. “Whatever you think would look best. You have better style than me. Even if you have to borrow my clothes to look that good.” He sent a cheeky grin.

Akaashi chuckled, leaning his face into Bokuto’s shoulder while the older man dried his hands off. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear something of yours,” he admitted in a low voice, muffled by the sleeve of Bokuto’s button-up which Akaashi had picked out for him. “But it _does_ make for a nice outfit.”

Something warm flooded Bokuto’s chest, overflowing so much he felt like it might burst. He pulled Akaashi in for an embrace, running his broad hands along the back of the blue sweater. “Yeah, you make anything look great,” he stated cheerfully, kissing the side of Akaashi’s brow. “I want to wear something of yours now!”

Akaashi pulled back, grinning up at him. Bokuto was momentarily stunned, as he always was when graced with Akaashi’s beautiful mouth stretched to reveal pearly perfect teeth. “If you wore any article of clothing of mine, you would look like such a tool. Our muscle definition is clearly different.”

Bokuto frowned, displeased. “Then… Your scarf! I’ll wear your scarf. And you can wear my black one, the one I never use, so you won’t be cold.”

Akaashi’s smile went soft. Butterflies fluttered in Bokuto’s belly. “Okay.”

“We could just wear our costumes there,” Bokuto suggested, Attempt Number Three. It was finally Halloween night, and they were about to head over to Kuroo and Kenma’s for their annual party. “Then we won’t have to bring the bag with us.”

“No,” Akaashi refused firmly for the third time. “It’s too cold to be outside for any amount of time in those costumes.” He didn’t say it, but he was obviously too embarrassed to be seen in public in the outfits, even for the short walk down to the car.

“Aww, alright,” Bokuto finally groaned with a small pout. He quickly leaned down to plop a chaste kiss against Akaashi’s cheek. “Though, there’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s Halloween!” Akaashi sent him a dirty look, too pink to really be upset.

They arrived at the party around seven, having promised the other couple to help set up before guests arrived.

Kuroo and Bokuto used their height to hang gossamer spider webs and bats from the ceiling and the banister of the stairs. Kenma was attempting to get the purple lights already dangling from the ceiling to work, and Akaashi was mixing the alcohol-infused punch bowl up, the color a crimson red, resembling blood.

They had just gotten the lights to work when Hinata and his new somebody-he-was-seeing-but-not-boyfriend-yet, Kageyama, arrived. Bokuto eyed the latter suspiciously since he still hadn’t figured out if Kageyama deserved Hinata or not.

“Hinata, you’re a cowboy, like in the old American western movies! So cool!” Bokuto enthused to the redhead.

“Yeah, aren’t I?” Hinata grinned, spinning his toy gun and putting a finger up to tip his cowboy hat. “You guys have met Kageyama, remember? At the antique shop?”

Kageyama stood stiffly next to the shorter man, dressed in a black suit, his dark hair combed sleekly to the side. There was fake blood staining the crisp white button-up shirt. Bokuto didn’t really get the look—was he supposed to be a gangster or something?

Kuroo nodded, crossing his arms. “Of course I do. He was offended by my hair, never mind that he didn’t actually tell me that in words.”

“I wasn’t offended, just astonished that it grows like that,” Kageyama mumbled. He shifted, eyeing their everyday outfits. “Isn’t this a costume party?”

Kuroo decided to ignore the comment, shooting Bokuto a glare when the athlete couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter (he quickly covered his mouth, this Kageyama guy hadn’t passed the test yet). “You guys are a little early. We haven’t gotten dressed yet. By the way, what are you supposed to be?”

“A gangster, right?” Bokuto guessed.

Kageyama bit his lip, shifting nervously, and replied in a too-aggressive tone, “No! I’m a… bloody groom.”

“It was my idea!” Hinata beamed. “He has no imagination, so I made something up. Do you get it? Like a bloody bride, but he’s a bloody groom?”

Bokuto wasn’t going to say it aloud because he adored Hinata, but it was kind of lame. Though, Kageyama had earned his respect with this one endeavor—he went along with it, for Hinata. He raised his hand to Kageyama for a high-five, and he awkwardly slapped it, very apparently not too sure why he was receiving it.

“Let’s go get dressed,” Akaashi said, noting the way Kageyama was clearly uncomfortable being in a costume without the other men in their own yet.

Bokuto felt awesome once he was dressed. He had seen the Hercules costume in the Halloween store with Akaashi, and he knew immediately it was going to be the coolest one he would find. He wore a dark brown tunic, a belt, cape, headband, arm gauntlets, and gladiator sandals. Hercules was strong, and Bokuto was strong, but now Bokuto felt invincible, just like a Greek hero.

It definitely wouldn’t have been resistant to the cold night air, Bokuto had to admit, the fabric of the tunic thin, his arms and legs bare. The flat was chilly, but once all the bodies filled it, he knew he would grow stifling hot.

Bokuto wolf whistled when Akaashi changed into his own costume. He was dressed as a volleyball player, which wasn’t crazy at all considering he used to play—the real problem was that Akaashi wore his old shoes, knee pads, and uniform. Which he had grown out of. A bit taller, a bit wider, the shorts shorter and tighter than he remembered them being.

“You look hot,” Bokuto blurted.

Akaashi went red, reaching for the door knob of the bathroom which they had decided to share to change. “I…” He glanced down at Bokuto’s thighs, then up again. “You too.” He wrenched the door open, forgetting the bag they had placed their street clothes in, rushing out.

Bokuto couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on his face. Oh, this was going to be a fun night.

“Hey, let’s play a game before everyone else shows up,” Kuroo suggested with a devilish smile, holding up the fake hook attached to his arm to grab their attention. He was wearing a red and white striped shirt, some old worn pants that he had ripped bigger holes into, and combat boots. Across one eye was a black eyepatch. It was glaringly a DIY costume, but he managed to fit the persona of a roguish pirate easily.

“What’s taking everyone else so long?” Hinata complained impatiently.

Kuroo and Kenma shared a look. “We may have told you that the party began thirty minutes earlier than we told everyone else,” Kenma said to Hinata, adjusting the cat ears on his head (the only piece of his ‘costume,’ “anything else is too much of a pain”). “You have a tendency to become distracted by other things and be late, Shouyo.”

Hinata squawked indignantly. “N-not true!”

Kageyama side-eyed him. “You were twenty minutes late to our first date because you found a stray dog.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Hinata petulantly whined. “Why aren’t you agreeing with me?”

“Because it was true,” Kageyama grunted. Hinata scowled.

The small group gathered around the coffee table as instructed while Kuroo went to retrieve whatever they were going to play. Bokuto expected something like Cards Against Humanity, or spin the bottle, something scandalous but still relatively innocent. Instead, Kuroo plopped an Ouija board on the coffee table. It glowed malevolently under the purple lights.

“Since it’s Halloween!” Kuroo smirked. “Who wants to join?”

Bokuto’s first instinct ever since the Little Hoot incident was to flee from any kind of paranormal activity. Attempting to reach the other side with an Ouija board definitely wasn’t following that instinct. But on the other hand, Kuroo would never let him live this down if he skipped out.

Akaashi immediately refused to participate; Hinata immediately fell to the floor in front of the coffee table, eager to begin. Kenma sighed before sitting down, and Bokuto reluctantly joined with an uneasy feeling in his gut. Kageyama crossed his arms and frowned down at them.

“Kageyaaaama, sit down,” Hinata coaxed.

“This is dumb,” he replied bluntly. Akaashi silently nodded his head from his seat behind them on the couch.

“Don’t be a chicken,” the redhead goaded. Kageyama gritted his teeth and sat down next to him, grumbling.

Kuroo sat directly in front of the board, setting the triangular planchette down on top of it. “We should do this as usual, starting with our names.” They went around in a circle, introducing themselves. “Okay, everyone put a finger on the triangular thing.”

“The planchette,” Akaashi said from above.

“Yeah, that. Wait, how do you know that?”

“Because he’s Akaashi, and he’s really smart,” Bokuto quickly replied.

Kuroo made a disgusted face at him. Akaashi smiled down at Bokuto, and he beamed back. Kuroo gagged.

“Is there a spirit here who would like to speak to us?” Kuroo asked.

The planchette didn’t move. Kuroo repeated the question once, twice, nothing. “Bo, you try. You’re the spirit magnet.”

Bokuto gulped. He really didn’t want anything to do with this, but here they were. He refused to hand over more ammo for Kuroo to make fun of him with. The rooster head already had enough of it for a lifetime.

“Uh. Okay. I’ll try.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Is there a spirit here with us?”

Miraculously, the planchette inched under their fingers, moving to the top left corner. ‘ _Yes_.’ Bokuto’s blood ran cold. Not again. Please, not again. He had a feeling he’d used up all his luck getting a friendly spirit the first time—chances were, this was something evil.

“Told ya,” Kuroo grinned. “Ask it something else.”

Bokuto was sluggish with fear. “Like what?”

“Ask why it only responded to you,” Kenma directed.

“Why did you reply to me and not Kuroo?”

The planchette moved. What it spelled out sent chills straight up Bokuto’s spine, his breath catching. ‘ _Bo is prey_.’

See, he _knew_ this was going to end badly.

“Let’s say goodbye,” Bokuto frantically pleaded. “This is creepy. I don’t deserve this.”

“I think we should find out what it wants,” Kuroo said. The others in the circle nodded in agreement.

Bokuto squinted suspiciously, relaxing his sweating free hand that had been clenched into a tight fist. There was something off about the unanimous decision to continue onwards, the way their expressions were just a tad too serious. “Tell me you guys are just screwing with me.”

Kuroo and Kenma looked at him solemnly, denying that they had anything to do with it. Kuroo was definitely likely to be a culprit, and Kenma could be persuaded to participate if it was his boyfriend asking. Plus, it was at Bokuto’s expense, and Kenma liked to mess with him sometimes if he were in the mood to.

Now, Hinata and Kageyama… Kageyama didn’t know him and he seemed like a serious person, so it was doubtful that he would receive any joy from this. And then there was Hinata, who was an awful liar. It was so obvious when he was fibbing. Bokuto focused on the redhead, who squirmed under his scrutinizing stare.

“Hinata. Look at me.”

Hinata met his eyes, face pink.

“You’re helping them move the planchette, aren’t you?”

Hinata’s mouth opened and he gulped on air. “N-no way!” His gaze flickered to the left, then back to Bokuto’s, and his free hand tapped nervously against the top of the table. It was a dead giveaway.

Bokuto grinned triumphantly.

“Damn it, I knew we shouldn’t have told Hinata,” Kuroo groaned, pulling his hand from the board.

“It’s not my fault!” Hinata shouted. “Bokuto’s eyes are really, really, _really_ intense!”

“He figured it out faster than I thought,” Akaashi commented appreciatively.

“Did you know about this?” Bokuto exclaimed, bewildered and a little betrayed. He didn’t know how the others would have been able to tell him about the plan, since he and Bokuto had been together the whole time since their arrival.

Kenma shook his head. “We plotted while you two were changing in the bathroom. We could count on Akaashi not participating.”

“Oh.” It made him feel a lot better that Akaashi hadn’t been apart of the prank. “You’re a bunch of assholes. Haven’t I suffered enough? Even if Little Hoot was harmless? I was still being haunted!” he complained loudly.

Before he could groan on about how he had been betrayed, there was a knock at the door. Sugawara, dressed as an angel (befittingly), and his new cop boyfriend, dressed as a lab scientist (which suited his serious face) arrived.

“Good going, Suga, he’s a hunk,” Kuroo complimented, effectively channeling Bokuto’s attention from the prank to meeting someone new, a solid move considering Bokuto thrived on making and maintaining social connections.

More people steadily arrived after that, and Bokuto was right; the smashing together of hot bodies did him no favors. He was sweating, even though he wasn’t wearing much. Akaashi had found a secluded corner to inhabit with Kenma, the two tucked in conversation while sipping on their drinks, though they were continuously interrupted by old friends they hadn’t seen in awhile. Meanwhile, Bokuto and Kuroo thrived in the limelight, loud and gregarious and copiously drinking spiked punch.

Bokuto was growing tired of the punch after his fourth cup, the sticky sweetness settling disagreeably in his stomach. His gaze drifted over to Akaashi for the hundredth time that night, contemplating whether he should ask his boyfriend to accompany him to the kitchen. Finding Akaashi preoccupied, he drifted into the kitchen to find something else to drink on his own.

A few others were in the kitchen when Bokuto entered, all people he didn’t know that well. His eyes blinked a few times to adjust to the change in lighting since they hadn’t bothered with the closed off kitchen when they hung the purple lights. However, plastic spiders and little skeletons decorated the counter tops, showcasing that no public part of Kuroo and Kenma’s home had escaped Halloween. Even the bathroom had decorations.

He was considering the liquor bottles lined up on the counter when Akaashi found him, his half-full cup of punch in hand. Bokuto didn’t doubt that Akaashi was still nursing on his first. Before coming, they agreed that they could walk back to Bokuto’s since it was near if they both were too intoxicated to drive, but Akaashi hardly ever liked to drink more than enough to feel buzzed.

“Hey,” he gave a warm smile, slinging his arm around Akaashi’s waist. “How are you doing?” He understood that, unlike him, Akaashi did not flourish in face of social situations, that there was an energy bar, just like a phone battery, that trickled lower and lower the longer he was surrounded by company.

“I’m good for a bit,” Akaashi replied, leaning into Bokuto’s touch. “How much have you had to drink so far?”

“Four, how about you?”

“One.”

“I knew it,” Bokuto grinned. “You’re probably staying sober enough to drive home, right?” He settled for some tequila, pouring a handful of shots into his empty cup. He took a sip and grimaced, turned to face Akaashi, and startled when he found Akaashi observing him with a hooded gaze. Looking him up and down. Thoroughly. “W…What’s up?”

Akaashi’s cheeks flushed with color. He bit his lip and leaned in close to Bokuto’s ear. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since you got into that costume.”

Bokuto choked on empty air, immediately taking another sip of his drink to clear his throat. The tequila went down with a burn, doing him more harm than good. He huffed an awkward laugh, unused to Akaashi being so…bold. “Is that so? I could say the same to you. Those shorts are so _short_.”

Akaashi licked his lips, glancing around the kitchen, which had miraculously cleared out. “I was thinking…” He leaned in close again, breath hot against Bokuto’s jaw. “You should slow down on the alcohol. So we can go home, and…” His moist lips brushed against Bokuto’s skin, his voice husky and rough. “I want you.”

A sudden rush of blood went south. Bokuto let out an involuntary whimper, the idea of Akaashi wanting to get into bed with him in a matter of hours obliterating any other trail of thought. Akaashi splayed out underneath him, Akaashi flushed red, Akaashi panting and moaning—the images that flashed through Bokuto’s brain were frequently featured in Bokuto’s dreams, images he wanted to paint into reality.

Bokuto immediately put his cup down on the counter, swallowing hard. “I—okay, um, of course. We can stay for another hour, and then… Yeah.” He clasped Akaashi’s wrist, dragging him back out into the party, terrified if they were alone for a second longer, his self control would shatter.

Okay, just another hour. Then they could go back to Bokuto’s, staying for long enough not to be suspicious, and then…

Bokuto couldn’t focus, the heat clinging to his skin refusing to dissipate, and it wasn’t completely because of the stuffiness in the flat. His gaze continued to flicker to Akaashi, his handsome profile, the length of his fingers, the curve of his ass, how his legs went on for miles. Akaashi met his stare every time, deep blue eyes heated.

An hour. Sixty minutes. Too many seconds. It felt like a lifetime.

Luckily, most of the guests were too drunk to pay any mind to the way the two couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other. Hinata was singing at the top of his lungs to the upbeat song playing, Kageyama swaying next to him to the beat, eyes closed. Sugawara was practically sitting in Daichi’s lap on the couch, watching a few people playing clumsy beer pong. Kuroo and Kenma had disappeared somewhere, probably doing things Bokuto didn’t want to think about.

Bokuto found his hand wandering to Akaashi’s back, rubbing. He just wanted skin to skin contact, was desperate for it. In the process of the motion, his pinky accidentally slid up the hem of the just-too-short shirt, his finger grazing against Akaashi’s bare back. The younger man shivered under the touch, his mouth parting just slightly.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto breathed, unable to stand it. He had always been impatient. “Let’s go?”

To his surprise, Akaashi nodded, and they found their bag of clothes and changed into their regular outfits. Bokuto was a little disappointed to see the stretch of Akaashi’s legs covered up again, but he reminded himself that soon, he would be seeing _all_ of Akaashi.

The cold on the short walk back to the car did nothing to soothe the fire that was eating Bokuto up.

As soon as Bokuto had unlocked the door and it had closed behind them, Akaashi carelessly dropped the bag in the entryway and backed Bokuto up against the nearest wall. His mouth was hot as he descended upon Bokuto, chest to chest, his large hands cupped around Bokuto’s face.

They were both desperate for each other. Bokuto dipped his tongue along Akaashi’s lips, eager to be inside, and Akaashi quickly obliged, parting for him. Bokuto’s tongue danced against Akaashi’s, tasting sweetness, fruitiness, and a touch of mint. Akaashi’s leg moved between his thighs, pressing up against him, and he groaned into the kiss, wanting more, needing more. Bokuto gripped Akaashi’s hips, pulled him right up against his growing erection, pleased, dazed to find Akaashi hard as well against his thigh.

Akaashi broke away just barely to yank off Bokuto’s jacket, and Bokuto took a moment to hurriedly do the same for Akaashi. “Shoes,” Akaashi demanded, and Bokuto impatiently toed off his own sneakers. He was instantly reaching for Akaashi again as soon as they’d both gotten them off, their hips slotting together once again.

He gasped when Akaashi bucked up into him, moaning lowly. Bokuto slid his hands down Akaashi’s waist and gripped the flesh of his ass over his jeans, squeezing, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“Bed,” Akaashi pleaded, breaking away from his mouth, and Bokuto promptly slid his hands lower, fingers curving around Akaashi’s firm thighs, and he lifted him easily. Akaashi’s breath stuttered, gripping his legs around Bokuto, mouthing hot kisses behind Bokuto’s ear and down his neck as Bokuto hurried down the hall in the dark.

Bokuto dipped Akaashi onto the bed, immediately reaching over to switch on the lamp. He needed to be able to see Akaashi, needed to see how much he wanted him.

And he was not disappointed.

Akaashi sprawled out under him, looking absolutely wanton. His eyes were practically black, lids lowered, eyelashes fluttering, his skin flushed red, his mouth open and trembling.

“Oh, god,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi wordlessly reached to wrap his arms around Bokuto’s neck, pulling him down. Their mouths slotted together messily, the technique sloppy in place of passion, but Bokuto didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Akaashi closer. Bokuto adjusted, placing his knees on either side of Akaashi’s hips, giving himself a flashback to those weeks before, when he’d been seducing the younger man.

As if he too remembered exactly what Bokuto had been thinking about, Akaashi groaned. “You know what?” Akaashi broke away to gasp out, leaving Bokuto to dip his head down again to lick up the line of Akaashi’s neck. “I used to always picture you being dominant, being inside me, but after that day, when you straddled me like that, I thought about how hot it would be if _you_ rode _me_.”

Heat pooled low in Bokuto’s stomach, into his dick. He twitched against Akaashi’s stomach through his jeans. “Next time,” he promised in a broken voice. He’d never heard himself sound like that, not even when he was sick or overworked his vocal cords during volleyball. “But I’ve never done that before, and right now, I want to fuck you. As soon as possible.” He watched Akaashi’s expression carefully. “If you’re okay with it.”

Akaashi gripped his ass and gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes,” he agreed, “I’d like that. So take off your shirt.” Not needing to be told twice, Bokuto rushed to straighten, pulling his shirt over his head, ignoring that it was a button-up, groaning when it caught over the spikes of his hair, before he successfully pulled it off. When he looked down, Akaashi was already shirtless, gazing at him…in awe?

“Like what you see?” Bokuto asked with a cheeky grin, running his hand along Akaashi’s lean torso.

Akaashi didn’t have a chance to reply before Bokuto swirled his pointer finger around one of his nipples. Akaashi gasped, arching his back, his hardness pressing up against Bokuto’s ass.

“Sensitive,” Bokuto noted appreciatively, and he squirmed down lower to level his head with Akaashi’s chest. He wrapped his lips around one of Akaashi’s perk nipples, sucking. Receiving positive feedback, Bokuto raised his other hand to Akaashi’s other pec, administering the same attention. Akaashi’s fingers came to Bokuto’s head, and he gripped gently at his stiff hair strands, as if trying to hold on but didn’t want to hurt him. Something in Bokuto’s chest warmed at the loving gesture.

Unable to ignore the strain against his zipper, Bokuto finally scooted back to reach for Akaashi’s pants. He unbuttoned them, carefully slid the zipper down, and worked them down Akaashi’s legs, who helped kicked them off. When they were gone, thrown to the floor, he reached for Bokuto’s, roughly tugging the button unclasped, and he yanked them down. Bokuto wriggled the rest of the way out of the denim, kneeling while Akaashi kneaded his hands into Bokuto’s thick thighs.

“These…” Akaashi started, staring, “I think about these a lot. You looked so sexy in your costume tonight, especially your thighs.”

“Should we do Hercules role play?” Bokuto laughed breathlessly, fascinated by the tent in Akaashi’s boxers.

“No, never,” Akaashi deadpanned. “Finger me already, please.”

Bokuto licked his lips before lowering himself, kissing and nibbling down Akaashi’s corded chest. Akaashi’s thighs parted wider around him, like an invitation. When he met the band of Akaashi’s boxers, he playfully bit it, testing the tension before letting them snap back against Akaashi’s hips. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, he drew lower, nuzzling against the hardness of Akaashi’s cock. His stomach flipped when he felt how wet the fabric had gotten, and he couldn’t resist mouthing against the shape.

“Please,” Akaashi gasped. Bokuto gripped his boxers and mercifully slid them off for his lover.

He couldn’t help but stare. He had seen every part of Akaashi, every mole, blemish, and scar, everything except for his dick—and it was lovely. It wasn’t absurdly thick, but it was long, and the sight of this previously unknown part of Akaashi made Bokuto’s mouth water.

“Mm,” Bokuto couldn’t help humming in appreciation, and without warning, he lowered his head to engulf Akaashi’s length in his mouth. He made use of his lack of a gag reflex, swallowing down until his nose was against the base of Akaashi’s dick.

Akaashi _moaned_. Loudly. Brokenly. Desperately.

“Bo—Oh my god,” he managed to groan, unable to resist rolling his hips up instinctively. For anyone else, the motion would have caused choking, resistance, but it only felt like he was sliding deeper, impossibly so, down Bokuto’s throat.

“Mmm,” Bokuto hummed around him, causing Akaashi to twitch, before he pulled off just enough to suck around the head of Akaashi’s dick, one hand stroking the rest of him.

Bokuto was good at blowjobs. He was well aware of that. It had been a happy surprise the very first time one of his lovers had bucked without warning, and Bokuto hadn’t gagged. And he wanted to take full advantage of that to make Akaashi feel amazing.

He also knew the mission wasn’t to get Akaashi off quite yet. He popped off for a quick second to say, “Lube, please, first drawer,” before he was back on Akaashi to lick down the vein that pulsed under his tongue.

Wordlessly, Akaashi reached for it, breathing heavily. He dropped it near Bokuto’s face. “P—please,” he said, and because he asked so nicely, Bokuto quickly slicked up his fingers, pressing one gently against Akaashi’s entrance, lips still wrapped around him as a distraction.

“Remember, I’m not made of glass,” Akaashi commented, already sounding so _wrecked_. Bokuto hummed around his cock in acknowledgement, and when Akaashi pressed his hips closer to chase the vibrations, Bokuto slid his finger inside.

Akaashi’s insides were hot, and sucking. It was like his body was greedy to intake whatever it was given, and Bokuto was all too happy to oblige.

“Your mouth—” Akaashi ground out roughly, “If you don’t lay off a little, I’m not going to last.” His fingers threaded in Bokuto’s hair, effectively ruining his hairstyle.

Bokuto obeyed, keeping Akaashi’s dick away from the back of his throat for the most part as he fingered his boyfriend loose, one finger turning to two, two turning into three, before Akaashi was yanking him off his dick and pulling him up his body.

“I’m ready, I want you, now,” Akaashi begged, looking at Bokuto with glassy eyes, his lip bitten red. His thighs squeezed Bokuto in, as if he were worried that Bokuto was about to run away.

Like Bokuto could ever resist him.

“Okay,” Bokuto agreed, wiping the saliva away that had dripped onto his chin with his arm. He gently parted Akaashi’s grip around him so that he had room to take off his own boxers, hissing as the cold air hit his bare dick, standing tall and leaking precum just from getting Akaashi ready.

He reached into the same drawer as the lube to retrieve the condom, ripping the wrapper open with slightly clumsy fingers. He was nervous, not because it was sex, or because he was worried about being overeager, but because it was Akaashi. His boyfriend, who used to just be the boy who would set for him, then the man who had turned into a trusted friend, and then, into his lover.

Akaashi took the condom from him, looking him in the eye when he slid it down Bokuto’s length. “I love you,” Akaashi breathed softly. “I love you, and I’ve been ready for this to happen for so long now. Ever since high school, I’ve wanted you to be mine, and I’ve wanted to be yours.”

Bokuto dropped his head to Akaashi’s shoulder, overwhelmed by all the feelings swirling inside him. “Me too,” he agreed, smiling against the warm skin underneath him. “Even if I didn’t know it then.” He sucked in a deep breath before he straightened, finding the lube again to slick himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Akaashi practically purred, one of his arms winding around Bokuto’s neck to pull him into a kiss while the other reached for his member, guiding, and Bokuto pushed the tip of himself inside achingly slow.

“Ah!” Akaashi gasped out, and Bokuto nearly stopped, terrified that it was a bad sound, before Akaashi’s leg wrapped around the back of Bokuto’s thigh, digging in. “Keep going.”

Bokuto’s body badly wanted to sink right in, to go in deep and pound away, but he wanted Akaashi to feel just as good. Even if the younger man acted like every inch of Bokuto’s cock was glorious, he was undeniably well-endowed. And it definitely felt like a tight fit.

So he sank slowly, releasing a groan, mouthing at Akaashi’s neck senselessly while he tried to keep himself in check, listening for every change of breath and moan that came from Akaashi.

Eventually, he was down to the hilt, entirely buried inside Akaashi. He stopped there, hovering over Akaashi on his forearms, licking at the shell of his sensitive ear. “Mmm, god, you’re really big,” Akaashi said, the comment not sounding like a complaint in the slightest. “You were right to go slow, but I’m okay now. I won’t break.”

_I kind of want to break you_. Bokuto assumed it was only a thought, wasn’t aware that he actually said something like that aloud, until Akaashi’s thighs clenched around his waist and he whimpered, “I want that too.”

Bokuto bucked into him involuntarily, earning a choked moan. He slid his hips back, then forward again, starting out slow but firm. Akaashi’s hands reached for something, anything, and one hand found the sheets beneath him while the other made its way to Bokuto’s back.

“Harder,” he panted, and Bokuto obliged.

He pulled nearly completely out of Akaashi before slamming back in just as quickly as he left, repeating the rhythm.

Akaashi’s eyes rolled into his head as he threw his head back, his mouth gaping as if gasping for air he couldn’t quite fully inhale, his hips rocking up to meet Bokuto’s every thrust.

Bokuto’s senses were hyper-aware. The sweat running down his own neck, Akaashi’s fingers across his shoulder blades, the smoothness of the sheets, the shaking in his limbs, the heavy smell of sex and sweat and cologne, the taste of his own blood when he accidentally bit his lip too hard, the heaviness of his breath and Akaashi’s loud, broken moans, the creaking of the mattress under their weight, and the sensation of his cock, clenched around Akaashi’s insides, slamming in and out.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. The last time he’d had sex was so long ago, and sex Akaashi was so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before.

Bokuto reached between them and started rubbing Akaashi, clumsy in his passion, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm, snapping in and out impatiently. He let out a loud groan, the heat pooling quickly, and then suddenly, he was coming with a shout, burying himself as deep inside Akaashi as he could get.

It was like he had blacked out in that moment he came, his mind static and filled with pure bliss. He opened his eyes hazily once the mist was clear. Somehow, he had successfully managed to keep his hand around Akaashi moving, and he felt the hot wetness of Akaashi’s cum dripping from his fingers as he perched trembling above Akaashi, still reeling from quite possibly the most insane orgasm of his life.

Akaashi slowly released his legs where he had clenched around Bokuto to hold him close as he came, his eyes closed and breath still coming out in short pants. Bokuto wasn’t much better; his arms were about to give out, so he began to pull out of Akaashi to flop over.

“Wait,” Akaashi rasped. “Stay inside, just roll over.” He turned with Bokuto so that they were facing each other, chests pressed close together, legs tangled.

Bokuto was staring at Akaashi’s face, serene and beautiful, when he realized there were wet streaks down his smooth cheeks. His heart jumped, and he reached out to halt the path of the flow, swiping his thumb across Akaashi’s sharp cheekbone. “You’re crying,” he said regretfully, appalled and disgusted with himself. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, no, no,” Akaashi shook his head quickly with a shaky laugh. “They’re good tears. I was just…overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” Bokuto breathed, the tension fading from his muscles. “I thought—I’m glad they’re not bad tears.”

Akaashi pressed into the short distance between them, his lips soft and giving against Bokuto’s, his hand cupping Bokuto’s jaw. “That was everything I hoped it would be,” he murmured almost shyly against Bokuto’s mouth. “Even better, in fact.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto agreed with an eager nod. “It was so good I think I blacked out for a second. I’m relieved I didn’t give out and crush you then, but apparently I’m good at multitasking.”

Akaashi laughed, his genuine laugh, the one where the corners of his eyes crinkled up, showing all of his pearly teeth, and the little snort that came with it, leaving Bokuto starry-eyed and giddy to be the one to bring it out.

It was lovely, but the motion was uncomfortable against his soft dick, still inside Akaashi. “’Kaashi, is it okay now for me to pull out? I’d love to be inside of your forever, but…”

“Of course,” Akaashi said, and gasped when Bokuto slipped out of him, taking off the condom and throwing it into the trash. Bokuto got up to grab a wet washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning off his own fingers before wiping away the cum from Akaashi’s stomach where Bokuto’s fist hadn’t quite caught it, and then the lube away from Akaashi’s hole.

Akaashi sighed contentedly, opening his arms in invitation for Bokuto when he was all finished, and he climbed back into bed, pulling the covers over them now that they weren’t sweating. He rested his head on Akaashi’s shoulder, their legs intertwined, feeling fuzzy with warmth as he listened to Akaashi’s slow heartbeat. He fell asleep quickly, safe and cozy.

\---

Bokuto couldn’t imagine a life without Akaashi in it. It was as if the time before he first met Akaashi in high school was a distant memory, a blur of passing days, like his life hadn’t lit up until Akaashi crept in, like a trickle down a dry stream at first, until all of a sudden the sky had opened and the trickles of water flooded into a river.

Bokuto was passionate about many things. Volleyball, his family, his friends, good food, adrenaline rushes, comedy movies, but most of all, he was passionate about Akaashi.

Akaashi. Kind and gentle, patient and giving. Akaashi. Soft and strong, loyal and courageous. Akaashi, pretty and shining, lean and bold.

Bokuto. Smitten by every quality.

Akaashi and Bokuto. Two pieces that at first glance didn’t seem to fit, but when one looked closer, their edges aligned just right.

Bokuto thanked Little Hoot every day, wherever the boy’s spirit lived now, for haunting his apartment. Bokuto firmly believed that he and Akaashi would always end up together, no matter what, but the sooner it happened, the better. Every second being with Akaashi beat any amount of time apart from him.

Gaining a lifetime with Akaashi had been worth being haunted for a week.

And if he sometimes still needed Akaashi to check the closets at night as a result, so be it.


End file.
